


Tell Me Who You Want To Be

by itsOzzie



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: F/F, Trans!Emma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsOzzie/pseuds/itsOzzie
Summary: Don't come at me. This fandom is dope, but I know this is...a concept. I don't mind if it's not your thing, because I wasn't even gonna publish this originally. A few people were like "Yeah, I'll read this!" so I decided, eff it. Here's a holiday gift for the Discord.Chapter Titles fromTimes are Hard For Dreamersfrom Amélie!
Relationships: Alyssa Greene/Emma Nolan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52





	1. The Past Can Only Fade

**Author's Note:**

> Don't come at me. This fandom is dope, but I know this is...a concept. I don't mind if it's not your thing, because I wasn't even gonna publish this originally. A few people were like "Yeah, I'll read this!" so I decided, eff it. Here's a holiday gift for the Discord.
> 
> Chapter Titles from _Times are Hard For Dreamers_ from Amélie!

Connor Nolan was 12 years old when this story begins. He was just like any other boy. He loved lacrosse, video games, and music. Just like the rest of his town, he was Catholic, he went to church every Sunday. There was something about himself, however, that he didn’t even know. On this one particular Sunday, though, something would come up that would change his life forever.

“Transgender,” the pastor cried. “It’s a term being used by young people today. To describe changing their sex and going against God in doing so.”

Connor didn’t really think anything of it. He shrugged it off, a bit confused when his classmates called it disgusting, perverted and freakish the next day at school. It was, quite literally, the talk of the town.

“I just don’t see the big deal,” he had ranted to his best friend and teammate, Marcus. “We have a game next Saturday, shouldn’t that be what we worry about?”

"Connor," Marcus said. "They're going against _God_. Do you think a lacrosse game is more important than _God_?"

"I just don't understand why He cares so much what people do," Connor said, his voice cracking. "If He made the universe, He made transgender."

"Dude, why do _you_ care?" Marcus suddenly snapped.

Connor fell silent, probably thinking about that for longer than he should. He wasn't a girl, he _couldn't_ be a girl. He liked things boys liked. He played sports. He dressed like a boy and had no desire to do otherwise...right?... 

The more he thought about it, the more he could convince himself he couldn't be trans. His classmates liked him, he could practically date any girl he wanted.

Puberty had a different story to tell. It took Connor and made his shoulders broader, his jawline sharper, his voice deeper, his whole body taller. And suddenly Connor understood why the "disgusting" and "perverted" trans people were the way they are. While his teammates were patiently waiting for their first mustache hairs, Connor hated to look in a mirror. How could he make himself smaller? How could he stop being handsome and brooding, because he hated that? What was happening to him? Who was he? Why did he downright hate himself? What did he do to deserve this? He was in his freshman year when it became horrendously unbearable.

It was just Shelby Gonzales. Stupid fucking Shelby Gonzales. She passed him in the hallway and told him he looked sexy today. The thing is, it's very hard to take a compliment when you aren't who you want to be. And no one knows who that person is. Not even you. Because you've been hiding.

Connor immediately panicked. A crowded school hallway was not the place to figure out such things about yourself. So he found himself in the school's band closet, where he occasionally practiced guitar, which was how he had a key.

He had too many overwhelming questions, and absolutely no answers, leading him to turn to Google. Searching for anything he could find until it turned his eyes bloodshot. All of this led to one other thought: How on Earth was he supposed to hide?

The answer seemed simple at first. Put more effort into schoolwork and the lacrosse team. In the meantime, now that all the pieces of self-hatred had a name--dysphoria--he decided now was the best time to find a new name.

After a few months and a lot of names in the bin, there was something that worked. It just clicked, and there were no words to describe the feeling.

Emma Ruth Nolan. It was perfect.

Now that the initial _What the fuck is going on, why am I having an identity crisis?_ phase was over, Emma was perfectly happy with things staying how they were. This closet, whether the metaphorical one or the physical one, was a safe place where she could just...exist. She wouldn't have to speak and have the sound of her voice making knots in her stomach. Rather, she could figure out how to make her voice a little less masculine without anyone hearing her. But then Alyssa Greene walked into the picture at the start of sophomore year.

Emma swore this girl was perfect. She would be the first to admit that she was head over heels. Alyssa Greene found a way to be kind to everyone. She was funny, and one of those people who everybody seemed to like. Best of all, she was practically the only girl in Emma's grade who hadn't seemed to try to get in her pants.

They were in chemistry class. The teacher was assigning partners.

"Connor Nolan and Alyssa Greene."

Emma had gotten used to somewhat ignoring her deadname, especially since she could never come out until she graduated, and that was enough that she didn't process that her name was called until Alyssa was standing over her desk.

"You okay over there?"

Emma blinked. "Oh! Um, yeah! What?"

Alyssa laughed a bit. "We're partners," she said simply.

Emma blushed furiously, and there was no hiding it. "Right. Sorry."

Alyssa flashed a grin. "Not a problem. But we should probably start this while we have time in class."

"Yeah. Yeah..."

Emma's quick note-taking and observing of Alyssa's work on the peanut brittle was quickly interrupted by the sound of a loud bang. Before Emma had time to react, there was a burning sensation all over her legs. She jumped up from the stool she was sitting on quickly, looking down to find a substance that appeared a brownish-black, a tar all over her jeans. The class dropped dead silent, quiet enough that Alyssa's quiet "Fuck..." could be heard like a pin dropping, and once again, stupid Shelby Gonzales had the nerve to butt in and laugh. Emma shot her a quick glare before mouthing an apology to Alyssa. As the laughter began to grow louder, the teacher cut in with a shrill cough.

"Alyssa. Help Connor find clean pants, thank you." She's already writing passes for them both.

Both of them stiffen slightly at this, causing another small eruption of laughter. After making quick eye contact, they leave the room.

"How am I supposed to--"

"I don't know!"

Emma looks about ready to storm off, more distraught than angry. "My parents are gonna kill me..."

Alyssa sighs angrily. "Connor!"

Emma flinches, and she's certain Alyssa can see the scared look in her eyes. 

Alyssa softens. "Um, can you get a knife from the cafeteria?"

"W-what?"

15 or so minutes of scraping later, most of the peanut brittle tar was off of Emma's jeans. Alyssa took a step back to admire her work, sighing contentedly as she looked it over.

"Does it look presentable?" Emma eventually found her voice.

"Like you just slipped in a bit of mud on the way out of school." Alyssa's grin was stupidly prideful.

"I suppose that means we're starting the walk of shame to get that make-up work?"

Emma had already turned around to start getting back to class, but Alyssa stopped her.

"Could I get your number first?"

Emma froze. "Why?"

"Because there's no one else I would have rather exploded half-cooked peanut brittle on."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment," Emma said, rolling her eyes.

Nevertheless, it didn't take long for a friendship to form, making Emma fear that her crush was more obvious than ever. And even despite that barrier, Emma never felt closer to anyone. Sure, there were her teammates, who she had previously spent all her time with, but she never quite felt like she could fit in with them in any other context. Aside from them, Emma pretty much considered herself a loner. As if she never even noticed the stares of some kind of awe or longing she got in the hallways.

Instead, she and Alyssa were talking every day about anything and everything under the sun, at pretty much any time they could manage. Pulling an all-nighter for an essay? One would get up for the other. This, of course, prompted questions from both Alyssa's mother and Emma's father.

"Oh, uh-huh. A _friend."_

But tonight was special. Emma and Alyssa planned a rare moment to meet outside of school. Emma's father was away on a business trip, leaving just her mother, who didn't care for meddling in her daughter's romantic life. She didn't meddle in much of anything to do with Emma, not even involving her husband's controlling behavior.

Yet, despite the best possible circumstance for their situation, something seemed off. Alyssa lay on Emma's chest, but she seemed distracted and tense. Alyssa was excitedly telling a story when she noticed that Emma had completely zoned out, which was unlike her.

"Hey...are you doing okay?"

Emma seemed startled by the question, snapping back to reality like a sleeping pupil in first period. Now that Alyssa thought more of it, there were small signs of a bigger issue. Misplacing small things, falling behind on notes, and responding just a bit late to texts.

"You're just not acting like yourself lately, that's all."

Emma just looked at her, but Alyssa couldn't read her expression.

"I, uh, I don't know if..." Emma trailed off.

"I'm not ready to tell you yet..." she eventually said after a pause, not daring to look at Alyssa.

"That's okay," Alyssa assured her. "You know I'll be here."

Emma smiled tiredly. "Start your story over...your were telling a story, right?" 

Alyssa nodded, doing as she was asked. She hardly noticed the way Emma relaxed when she lifted her head off her chest. But she did.

It was towards the end of sophomore year when Emma told her parents she was going to her grandparents' house. Betsy had been asking for a while: _"When will I get to see my favorite grandson? You won't tell Gregory I said that, will you, dear?"_ So a Saturday was arranged, and Emma figured that if she had been considering...actually telling them, it was practically now or never. She walked up to the door and knocked softly; the doorbell was broken. Pops always said he was going to fix it, but he never did.

The door creaked open, and Emma was greeted by her grandfather and the realization that she was taller than him now. His eyes lit up despite knowing this visit was planned. It must've been that long overdue. Emma felt a sudden wave of guilt. This was her fault, and she knew that but was she really that unjust in being afraid? Her grandparents were raised in a world where this didn't exist--well, no, it did exist, but it wasn't known, and on the off-chance it was, it was a mental illness. Which brought her back to being 12 years old in church. What if this _was_ a sin? What if she actually _was_ perverted and sick? Was this worth it?

Yes. She instantaneously decided. She didn't know how hiding completely would affect her the next two years and considering a lot of people had known at least that something had changed, she desperately needed someone to confide in.

"Hi, pops."

He goes in for a hug."You've grown, my boy!"

Emma hoped she didn't tense up too much as she considered just blurting it out. But it was too soon.

Any plan she could have had other than that, though, was thrown out the window as she began contemplating the different outcomes of this again. Her grandfather, ironically, tended to fill in for actual father. She loved him and trusted him, so if this went wrong and he didn't approve? Well, for one, he'd tell her parents, but she'd also lose her only father figure prematurely.

"Hey, kiddo, you seem quiet today." Emma was derailed from her anxiety by his voice. "Let's bust out the old Uno, see if that helps."

Every Nolan family gathering, all the family cousins would gather around Betsy’s dining room table and play a few rounds of Uno. It was a strange tradition, but as the youngest of the large family, it was all Emma had ever known. Although usually, it was an unspoken rule that nobody who was not a cousin in Emma's generation couldn't join, this was different...for obvious reasons.

It was just Emma and her grandfather sitting across from each other at the table with a hand of Uno cards. Betsy was there, but she was in the kitchen, cooking the trio a late lunch. Emma had to admit, she was the one carrying the conversation.

Her grandfather placed down a card. “So, what's going on?”

“I--uh--” Emma paled. 

Her grandfather’s eyes widened, and he stood up quickly. “Hey, it's okay, I won't be mad,” he says. Suddenly he’s kneeling beside her, hands on her shoulders.

“You can't promise that,” it felt like a thing Emma croaked out without any conscious awareness off it.

By now Betsy was standing beside her too, equally concerned.

“Yes I can,” he assured her. “Because you're my grandson, and a family never leaves when they’re needed most.”

“But I’m not--”

“Not what?” By now, Harold Nolan probably knew what Emma was going to say, but she needed to do this on her own time.

Emma placed her head on her grandfather’s shoulder, as if she was trying to savor the last bit of affection she would get from him, almost oblivious to the gentle tone of his voice as he rubbed her back.

“Not your grandson...I’m transgender.”

For a moment, Emma couldn't process anything. She just braced herself for what was to come. 

And then she was met with a hug. She gasped a little, letting out the breath she was holding. From the other side, she was met with another hug. She was breathless. Completely frazzled and overwhelmed with love, her skin burning like it couldn't believe it was still being touched. When she finally sat up straight again, she found her grandfather’s hazel eyes looking into her own warmly.

“I'm so proud of you…” he trailed off, and Emma knew what he wanted to know.

“Emma.”

Her voice shook a little, but there was an undoubtedly joyous lilt to it.

“It's a beautiful name,” Betsy told her, and Harold nodded.

She swore this was what Heaven looked like.

The love and support of her grandparents was more than she ever could have asked for, but it gave her and her identity a massive vote of confidence, enough that when she got home, she found herself online, and immersed in a whole new friendship dynamic she had never been exposed to. A small online chat group of other trans people. She clicked on the chat that immediately began blowing her phone up with vibrations. Almost immediately, she found herself grinning stupidly hard enough that her parents would think she was texting Alyssa.

Her sixteenth birthday came quickly after the weight of coming out for the first time was pulled off her shoulders. It was a Saturday, so she could sleep in as much as she liked. Ideally, that would be until noon, but she was instead awakened by the sound of the doorbell at around 10.

”It’s for you, Connor!” The call from her mother rang out a moment later.

”It’s your girlfriend, you better look presentable!” Her father added in a husk bark.

Emma rolled out of bed within another moment, finding herself walking to the door with only a tank top and boxers on. Before her father could make a snide remark, she cracks a joke.

”It’s not covered in peanut brittle though.”

Alyssa laughed. “It’s been 9 months, will I ever live that down?”

Emma grinned, her cheeks flushing a little pink. “If I can help it? Absolutely not. For your information, though, it’s been the best 9 months of my life.”

“I’m glad I got to be a part of it.”

"So...what are you doing here, Lys?"

She rubs the back of her temples sheepishly. "I forgot to give you your birthday present on Friday."

Emma bites her lip, a subtle attempt at pushing down her shock that Alyssa actually remembered her birthday, let alone actually bothered to get her a gift...and she bothered to _hand-deliver_ it...on a _Saturday_? She looks down at Alyssa's hands, finding a package wrapped neatly in a smooth gold paper.

"What's with the paper?"

Alyssa shrugs. "Eh, sweet sixteen, it's a big one!"

Emma blinked, a little dazed, and slightly shocked by the way Alyssa had described the occasion.

"I thought that was a girl thing."

Alyssa gave a sly grin that Emma read with ease.

"What? How did you--"

Alyssa cuts her off. "We'll talk. But not here."

Emma nods, dumbfounded.

Before walking off the porch, Alyssa makes sure to add, "Happy birthday!"

Then Emma nods before stumbling back into the house, finding her father still standing by the door. He looks quickly at the gold package in Emma's hand and winks, sending a chill down her spine. She eventually wanders into the living room, finding a small stack of presents on the coffee table. All but one that sat there was wrapped in blue. The one that wasn't, it was pink. The kind of pink that was discreet and could be perceived as red, which was quite a clever move on her grandparents' part, because they knew Emma's father would pitch a fit if his "son" had anything pink. She put the gold-wrapped one from Alyssa on the corner of the table.

Emma's mother came up behind her suddenly. "Is there one you want to open now?"

She jumped, but once she realized what she was being asked, her eyes gravitated to the pink package. On instinct, she and her mother turned to see if Mr. Nolan was anywhere nearby.

He wasn't.

Emma picked up the box and gestured silently to her room. Mrs. Nolan seemed confused.

"Uhhh... okay?"

Emma found herself nervous by even the slightest bit of questioning and tried desperately to avoid looking suspicious as she closed the door of her room behind her.

It was funny. She didn't think of herself as somebody who thought the standard blue/pink gendering system was in any way necessary to society, yet having a pink box in her hands was stupidly validating.

With that thought beside her, she tore into the box and lifted off the lid, finding a pair of light pink converse and a small box inside it that immediately left her intrigued. She cupped the small box in her hand and opened it, finding what seemed large enough to be a necklace. She couldn't control her grin as she realized what the charm on it was.

The traditional female sex symbol. It appeared to be homemade, too. _Probably made in the old forge Pops could never find a reason to use anymore,_ Emma thought to herself as she ran her finger over the occasional bumps on the silver metal. It was rhinestoned over the slightly imperfect material. All different shades of pink, red and purple. _At least not until now._ Her heart sang at just the thought of how long this had taken her grandparents, because of course, Betsy would have to be a part of this too. She also realized, upon further inspection, that every rhinestone on the necklace was in the shape of a heart. There was so much detail here that it compelled Emma to turn the charm over, and tears sprung to her eyes at the sight of her first initial engraved into the back of it in clean and beautiful script.

As carefully as possible, Emma slipped it on. She was so caught up in the euphoria of this whole thing that she hardly thought it could wait. She closed the shoebox and tucked the charm of the necklace under her tank top before she left her room, startled by her father, who notices its chain as she comes to an abrupt stop.

"What the hell is this?" he makes a move to grab it, but Emma dodges swiftly.

"My cross, dad. What else would it be?"

He frowns. "Fine."

As he walks off, Emma breaks into a grin, a pep in her step as she walked back into the living room. Everything was falling into place, and she couldn't be happier about it.


	2. They Say Times Are Hard for Dreamers

"Come on out kiddo, we're here now."

6-year old Emma peered out the window of her grandfather's truck, confused by the sight before her. "It doesn't look like we're anywhere, pops."

"Exactly," he whispered. There was a tone of whimsy in his voice as Emma moved to stand beside him. Her movements were quiet as if she didn't want to disturb the gentle hum of cicadas that feel like they come from nowhere. They just became a part of her.

Emma looked up at the sight before her. A sky so deep and rich a purple it was _almost_ black, but not there yet. Beaming down from it, the pale stars.

"Let me tell you a story, Connor. One that gives me hope for Edgewater."

"Why does Edgewater need hope?"

"I hope you'll never understand as I do," Harold sighed. "But I turned up here as a kid once. Not with my father--alone. It was a warm day, just like today. But I was so lost it didn't feel warm."

"But why were you lost? You grew up here?"

"I don't know, kid. I just was. But I looked up at these stars. And they moved around above me, but they were always there. As if telling me to keep going. That this place would do me good. I met your grandmother here not too long after."

* * *

It was the start of junior year. Once again, Emma found herself in the cafeteria, eyes downcast. Yet, she could feel the eyes of her peers. Somehow she could map everyone in this room right now. It looked the same as it did every year.. Popular kids in the middle, as if everyone else revolved around them. Freshies in a corner, depending on which one was vacant. Other cliques dotted around and empty tables skirting the edges. Emma pulled her hoodie further over herself, looking down at the maroon base and gold logo: _James Madison Boys Lacrosse._

Everything Emma was was based on lies. It was a lie. All of it.

"Hey, Connor! Over here!"

However desperately Emma tried to avoid Marcus's voice, it found her. She didn't even know why Marcus wanted her there. They hardly spoke anymore.

She willed her legs to follow what she knew had to happen as she dumped her bag down at an empty table, feeling the murmurs of her peers bounce around her as they went through the room. It never hit her. It was someone else they were discussing, she just had to walk through it like some thick fog that only she knew was there.

She shoved her hoodie off suddenly, wanting its protection, but also to be rid of the curse it had given her.

She didn't know how much time had passed. It didn't matter. She wasn't going to eat. Just watch the haze of whispers. No one was actually worried, per se, they just wanted the gossip.

"Connor?"

Emma felt herself flinch, and she lifted her head up to respond to the voice of Shelby Gonzales. The girl who had been the death of her since freshman year. Her heart was pounding, jolting through the body that wasn't hers. The body she no longer felt like she was even in. She was an outside player, a fly on the cafeteria wall, watching herself.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Shelby sighed. "I--was wondering...would you wanna go on a date with me sometime?"

Tears sprang to Emma's eyes. She watched a few nearby tables turn to watch. These were two of the most popular kids in junior year.

Words failed her. Her whole respiratory system failed her. Her body ached from this. 

Suddenly there was a numb sensation on her cheek. "Hello? Are you gonna answer me?"

The next thing Emma knew she was on the floor. Did she try to run? Did she reject Shelby and made her react badly? Had she spoken at all? She didn't know. All she knew was the endless cold of this linoleum.

Either way, she was completely powerless.

“...Worst possible decision you could've made, Shelbs.” When the ringing in Emma's ears died down, Alyssa's voice was the one she heard. She hardly noticed how the cafeteria had erupted into chaos.

Alyssa turned to her. _Emma,_ she mouthed simply.

She blinked, and Alyssa was beside her.

“Stay here,” Emma begged. Trying to force those words out was enough to make Emma's head pound.

She knew people were watching, and for once she didn't care.

“Of course,” Alyssa promised. She began tapping a pattern in Emma's thigh, sitting down next to her, and Emma recognizes it as their secret code for her preferred name. 

If Emma had the heart to, she’d laugh at the memory. After they’d had _that_ conversation, Alyssa said they'd come up with a code to resemble Emma's name, and the pair accidentally spent a whole afternoon shooting off the most ridiculous ideas until Emma's father got home and found Alyssa on his expensive carpet, laughing hysterically. With one glare, they began a meaningless conversation out of tongue clicks until he stormed off, raging.

Emma lay her head against Alyssa's, and with every repetition of her name, her _real_ name, she felt herself calm down. She gradually stopped shaking; her head stopped pounding. Blood stopped roaring in her ears.

She didn't take the bus home that day. She couldn't stand the thought of the kids on the bus or going home to her father. Instead, she walked across town to her grandparents' house, still feeling a tad distanced from reality. She didn't know why she didn't come this way more often, honestly. Perhaps it was her slightly disassociated and dulled-down state that made the walk down the unpaved gravel roads on the outskirts of Edgewater a rather solemn one. On other days, when she was younger, you would've spotted her kicking up all the gravel in her path. But not today. Today, the quiet of rural Edgewater was downright solemn as Emma dragged her feet along its pathways. The quiet, apart from the gentle scrape of the roads beneath her, was a comfort as she looked around, saw the same old fence into her grandmother's cow pasture that had always been there, with one crooked post in just the same place it always was. It was nice to have something that was so familiar.

That solemn feeling continued as Emma knocked on the door. The whole atmosphere picked up a slight hesitation as Betsy Nolan appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, Emma! I didn't expect you!"

Emma chuckled, biting her lip. She avoided making a comment about how she didn't expect to be here either, not quite wanting to bring up the events of the school day, nor did she want to worry her grandmother, for a reason she couldn't quite place. She paused, not knowing how to continue the conversation, finding her head still in the fear of earlier today.

"Yeah, uh..."

Fuck. What are words?

Betsy looks at Emma quizzically, raising an eyebrow until she recognized the faraway look in her eyes.

"Your grandfather's upstairs sick right now, you can go and see him though."

Emma nodded, deciding on that. She ascended the stairs and found herself wandering into her grandparent's bedroom. Harold was peacefully sleeping as Emma sunk into the bedside chair next to his mattress. He didn't wake up as she sid her homework next to him, but somehow just the sight of such peace cleared her head.

Yet, as the weeks passed, he wasn't getting any better. It took a toll on Emma. She found herself expected to remain the cool, nonchalant jock. Even at home, her family didn't discuss Harold's declining state, so she felt like she was alone in the world.

She had to admit, it was Alyssa who was left with most of what she was dealing with. They didn't talk much those days. Emma wanted to talk about it. She just didn't know where to begin.

More days passed, and somehow she found herself with a driver's license. It was almost like she didn't remember where or how she got it, yet when she got behind the wheel she somehow remembered what to do. Every day blended together, and she couldn't do jack about it until one day when instinct told her to make the trip to her grandparent's house. Knock on the door, keep it tentative. 

She was surprised to find her grandpa on the couch, and he perked up a little seeing her.

He smiles weakly. “Just who I wanted to see.”

“Don't think about it, Harold.” Betsy’s voice is stern, yet tender.

"Why not?" Suddenly there's a childish sparkle in his eyes. A whimsy in his voice that Emma hasn't seen in a long while.

"Because...you know why."

"Then she'll drive! You have a license now, right, kiddo?"

All attention in the room was suddenly put on Emma, and she shifted her weight just a little. "Uh, yeah." How had he figured that out? She couldn't say.

"Why don'tcha take me somewhere, kid?"

Emma looked to Betsy, who eventually rolled her eyes playfully. "Fine."

Harold grins. "Help me up, we'll take the truck."

"Wow, are you really that sick of me, dear?" Betsy jokes.

"No, of course not! You know I've got two favorite girls, Bits."

The second Emma and her grandfather get into his old truck, Emma feels a weight lift off her shoulders. The next moment, there's hot tears trailing down her cheeks. She's still trying to keep quiet about it as Harold notices the wet spots on her cheeks.

"Oh, honey..." Then there are warm hands around her, and she can't help but melt into them.

They stayed like that for a while. Far longer than Emma would care to admit.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Emma could only shake her head a little. A moment's more hesitation, and then they were off. A relatively quiet drive, as Emma was focused on the road. As she made the drive across town, she was careful to stay on the outskirts of town. It was a longer drive, but she had to admit, the Edgewater was far prettier without the town that was already coming alive with the buzz of a Saturday afternoon all over again, just like every other week.

Eventually, Emma pulled the car to a stop. Only then did Harold look out at the barren field just beyond the dirty window. He opens his mouth, only to close it again as Emma scanned his face.

"You...remembered?" He grips tightly onto the frame of the pickup as he steps down from it.

"I--I don't know how, I guess I just--"

Now he is the one joining Emma outside of the vehicle. "Hm?"

"I guess I was just...happier back then..." she admitted shyly. "Back when I was what everyone expected."

"This town has the smallest expectations. If you can defy them, there's nothing you can't do, Emma Nolan. You're a smart girl, and you're kind. But more importantly, you're brave for dealing with what you do. This town can't hold you forever, and soon you'll be out of here and happier than that you who didn't know who she was could ever imagine." Harold sounded so sure of his words that for a moment, Emma didn't know what to say back.

"...You really think so?"

"I know it."

“I just wish I didn’t have to deal with knowing my own parents would reject me, Pops,” the words came out with a sigh, and Emma silently crossed her fingers that her grandfather wouldn’t take offense to such a comment about his son in particular.

“We didn’t raise him that way. I don’t know what happened. All I can say is that I’m sorry.” He looks so sincerely sad that Emma couldn’t help but wrap an arm around him.

“I feel like I can’t express an emotion anymore. It’s...a lot.”

Harold lets out a gentle hum...then he apologizes again.

“I love you despite what he thinks, Emma.”

That was their last day together. 

The director of Edgewater’s funeral home had seen a surprising amount considering the size of the town he worked in. But somehow he had never seen a family quite like this one. A man and woman, both looking stoic, almost unaffected by the death in their family, and the air of death that hung above them. They also appeared as if they could care less about the tears shining in the eyes of the elderly woman beside them. The scared look in the eyes of their teenager. They were planning a funeral, why did it seem as if they didn’t care about anyone in this room?

At one point the young one asked to step out for a moment. It was a request he was used to filling, but the older man gave the kid a glare and he winced.

Emma let the door of the funeral home director’s office shut behind her without any care for how loud it slammed. She tried to appear somewhat collected until no one could see her and her whole body began to quake. This was it, this was the point that she broke. The moment she realized that her panic felt familiar.

The notification came at the perfect moment. A mention from one of her friends.

**hey, are you doing ok? I haven't seen you online in weeks**

Emma's fingers still shook, leaving her response delayed.

**No, lol**

**Why did you ask?**

There was a brief pause that made Emma realize that this was quite an excellent distraction.

**Jack was saying he's moving to the middle-of-nowhere, Indiana, and it made me think of you**

**Oh God**

**Send him help.**

**He’s saying his dad’s gonna talk to the principal so he can maybe like**

**not get deadnamed and outed by teachers?**

Emma took a moment to think about that. Jack was moving, and he got to start all over again without a reputation to follow him. Emma wondered who she might be if she had that chance. She’d do anything possible to keep the attention of others off her, but she’d be happier that way. If no one had to know who everyone thought she was, it would be better. And she could forget this town and maybe the church, or, hell, maybe her father. She would just drift off, and he wouldn’t care to ask why. Then she’d take off this stupid mask that was glued to her face by the town she lived in. She’d be everything she’d ever wanted, she’d be—

“Emma…!” Betsy’s voice was hushed, yet panicked.

She wasn’t sure if she could move, but she certainly couldn’t speak. Without recalling how she landed in her grandmother’s arms.

It was hardly even a week later when someone Emma hadn't seen before showed up the cafeteria. He was kind of short and seemingly _always_ in a hoodie. There was something about him that screamed to her just to talk to him. So when he turned up the next day looking just as scared as yesterday, Emma called him over to the table she kept to herself. She sees his eyes widen and his whole body stiffens, probably somehow already knowing the reputation she desperately wanted to shed.

"Hey, uh. Were you looking for a place to sit?"

He nods quickly. "But, um, aren't you...?"

"What?"

"Nothing!"

Emma shifts uncomfortably. "So, what's your name, kid? I've never seen you."

There's a quick glint of fear in his eyes that quickly turned to excitement. It was something Emma recognized. She saw it in herself every time she said her "name" out loud. It was a feeling, too. One that Emma also knew. A swoop in her stomach that slowly broke her mask in half from its bases. The thing she was known for; known as. But it never got to turn good for her. And in return, her mask never broke, only taking damage that was rooted deep inside it for every point she _almost_ broke, whether it was an icy glare to someone she was supposed to pretend she liked, not responding to the things that made all eyes turn to her, or falling apart and unraveling from a loose string that lived in her gut and pulled apart with all these blows.

"Jack," he says, trying to hide the grin on his lips as Emma makes a connection.

"Hm...weird."

Emma found herself getting closer to him despite herself, but he didn't know the things about her that Alyssa did, even with the suspicions she'd held about him. And Alyssa didn't know, either, where she went every afternoon. But she found herself back in that stupid, empty field, wondering what else she might've said if she had known, pouring through every memory she had with him.

* * *

"Where is Connor going after school, mom?!" Betsy heard her son scream into the phone the moment she picked up.

"I don't know. Frankly, I don't want to snoop."

"What do you mean 'you don't know'? The kid spends more time with you than he does avoiding parties on Friday nights!"

Betsy rolled her eyes "Is that not a good thing to you as a father?"

"But people like him! I don't want anyone thinking he's...weird."

"He isn't being weird, he's just grieving, John!" Finally being forced to misgender Emma, Betsy winced, notating the pronouns with large air quotes her son would never see.

* * *

It was just after Halloween. Emma found herself driving to the field again. She'd lost track of how many times she'd done this, parking her grandfather's truck, which she inherited, in the same spot every day. Except, today she nearly stopped in the middle of the unpaved road at the sight of... another car? Looking out at what was usually an empty expanse of nothing but half-dead grass, she saw...a replica of a house? Pulling in behind the mysterious car, Emma eventually stumbled out of her truck, staring at the "house" from a distance. She turned away suddenly as a massive van and--holy shit, a limousine, pulled up. Suddenly a large group of men piled out of the van, all carrying camera equipment. A minute later, a fat man with unusually thick glasses emerges, attempting to put together the parts of a wheelchair. Out of the limo, two middle-aged people Emma had never seen. The man in the limo plops himself into the wheelchair once it was assembled, insisting he was going to "stay in character", earning a raised eyebrow from the man with thick glasses and now that Emma looks at her, the woman from the limo looks like Eleanor Roosevelt.

"What the fuck is going on...?" she muttered to herself as Eleanor strutted over to the fake house, which Emma could now assume was Hyde Park.

She watched them for such a long time she forgot how long it had been, and she realized they were actors. Probably famous ones, based on how narcissistic they were from the conversations Emma heard. Finally, the man with thick glasses approached her.

"Young man?"

Emma blinked up at him, not having any heart to explain herself.

"You've been sitting here for Lord knows how long. And you're just--shivering."

"I--oh." Now that Emma was brought back to reality, she was met with a chill that crept into her bones.

"And I was just thinking--you should take my jacket."

Emma finally looked at it, plain black with a small logo that read _Eleanor! The Broadway Musical_.

He takes it off, but Emma stops him. "Broadway? Aren't you happy about that?"

As if on cue, the man in the wheelchair suddenly stands, interrupting the conversation.

"I thought you were staying in character?"

The man groans. "The grass--I can't _fucking_ move, Sheldon!"

"You can't move, _you're paralyzed_." Sheldon makes a snide remark.

The man who was supposed to be paralyzed then pushed over the wheelchair with another screech, and it fell over.

"Anyway," Sheldon turns again to Emma before walking back to set, "No. No, I am not." 

He left Emma with the Eleanor jacket, and it felt good to hold something that came from New York, where things were better, even if she had to hide it. 

It was the zipper of the Eleanor jacket that Emma fiddled with as she paced back and forth in the wings of her school's auditorium. In her other hand, she held her guitar case.

The Thanksgiving Assembly. One of the biggest events at James Madison High School, right behind prom, homecoming, and the first football game of the season, in that order. It was an event that rang out the football season and rang in the brief break for Thanksgiving. Freshman loved to use the day to cut, as the assembly lasted all day but if they didn't, they'd grow to have a strange fondness for the terrible skits put on by the more popular branches of jocks. Every year before this, Emma had been a part of it, but this year was different.

The staff in charge of putting together the assembly also took smaller acts via audition.

Emma got in for a solo act, and she had a plan for it, too.

The time flew by from the second the house lights went down, and Emma was filled with an inexplicable nervous joy. Suddenly she found herself still in the wings as the cheerleaders walked offstage, still hauling the set pieces from their choreography. The only thing left on stage was a microphone stand as Alyssa walked past. She was the only other person in this entire auditorium who knew what was about to happen.

"Hey. Good luck.

Emma nodded a little in response, and then she was moving. And then she was there. Centerstage, and downstage, in perfect view of everyone she'd known since she was 5 years old and "normal". She took a deep breath before turning to the microphone.

"My name is... Emma Nolan, and I will be singing _Imagine_ by John Lennon." The pause between her beginning to speak and her name felt like a whole lifetime, even if only a brief moment. And, in a way, it was. It was the end of the life of "Connor", and a beginning for Emma.

The song almost didn't matter anymore as Emma heard the angry and confused murmurs of the crowd. She knew she sounded worse than usual despite all her hard work. She also knew she didn't care anymore. She was free. Without making a sound, she had ripped off her mask, and despite the world's objections to her broken self, she dropped it on the floor and sang about how she wished the world could be.

As Emma walked offstage, she brushed past Mr. Hawkins, the principal. He was silent, yet Emma swore she saw him open his mouth. Yet she froze in the middle of the hallway when he finally found words. 

“I just want you to know I’m on your side.”

Then Emma was the one who fell silent.

She eventually retreated to the band closet, and was shocked to find Alyssa waiting by the door. Waiting for her.

“Emma, I—I’m so proud of you.”

She smiled weakly, a little overwhelmed by the last five minutes. She had a feeling it would get even crazier as she unlocked the band closet.

“What are you doing out here, Lyssa?”

“I just—I don’t know, really.” She followed Emma into the closet, leaning against its wall as Emma laughed.

“Little ironic now, isn’t it?”

Alyssa gave a quiet huff of a chuckle, then silence descended upon them. Emma couldn’t tell if it was comfortable or not.

“Hey, Lys?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“I—No, I...I didn’t…” Alyssa stuttered.

“No, I mean it,” Emma interjected. “You literally saved my life just by choosing to stay in it.”

Alyssa blushed, silent.

“C’mon, what’s going on today?” Emma finally turned to Alyssa, who took one look at her dancing hazel eyes before wrapping her arms around her and pulling her in.

Emma, being so unused to affection, automatically melted into it. She barely noticed the feeling of something on her jaw. She looked down and found Alyssa on her tiptoes. She laughed at the sight.

“What? You’re like, 8 inches taller than me.”

Emma rolled her eyes, and suddenly Alyssa was off the ground. “Thanks for the reminder, Greene. Let me help you out, then.”

Alyssa opened her eyes again to find herself eye-to-eye with Emma, her arms still around her lower chest and her feet now dangling in the air of the musty closet, Emma’s skin was warm, and Alyssa’s chest was right up against it. Sweat formed on her as a result of the intimate contact, and surrounded by the sight of drums the school band never used, she kissed Emma on the lips, and Emma kissed right back. With Emma’s arms around her, Alyssa’s feet brushed against her legs. She had never seen something as beautiful as Emma Nolan, and now she was in her arms. It was the best feeling Alyssa had ever felt. She didn’t want Emma to ever let go of her. In that moment, Emma’s hair that was much shorter than she would’ve liked didn’t matter. Her lack of breasts, neither of them noticed. It didn’t matter that she was nowhere near where she wanted to be in that moment. It was that she was _in_ that moment.

Finally, Emma put her down and sighed contentedly. “Oh. Wow.”

“Mmm…” Alyssa drawled, the type of lazy speech that could only be found after something, someone, truly made somebody happy. 

It took them both a while to recover from that tired sensation, but that was when Emma’s phone vibrated. A text...from her father?

_Your mother and I heard about what you did, Connor. You’re not welcome back to our home._

It hit her like an icy punch, everything she just did. Suddenly the bell to end the day rang, and Alyssa jumped up.

“I’ve...got to go. Before everyone leaves.”

Emma nodded in understanding, and wandered out a few minutes later, finding, to her horror, Nick Boomer. With Marcus.

“Connor, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”

“But this ‘Emma’ isn’t _you,_ dude.”

They took turns speaking as if it were a perfectly planned speech.

“Uh...no? My name is Emma. I’m—“

“We know what you are, man. An attention seeking freakshow. I’ve always known. Remember seventh grade?”

“And if you were the girl you say you are, would this hurt?”

“Would what—“ 

Emma’s question was cut off by Nick’s knee jabbing her crotch suddenly, providing a whiplash of pain and dysphoria that left tears glazing her eyes as the pair cackled and she tried not to collapse completely while she doubled over and groaned, which slowly morphed into a scream.

No one stopped to help her as they walked off, all rushing to the buses. A couple people nearly stepped on her. Was Jack here? He would’ve done something. Or maybe he was part of the ever-blurring crowd that didn’t even look as she sunk to her knees.

Emma Nolan was once a dreamer, but now she had one dream: To get out of this fucking town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re wondering still how Alyssa “knew”, it’s all in the first chapter! Just look at the details! Also, if you wanna draw the Gay Paragraph, or anything else from this fic, go ahead! I’m proud of this whole fic so far, but writing that one part literally made me cry at myself.


	3. It Isn't Where I Am, It's Only Where I Go From Here

Emma couldn’t have told you a thing about the rest of the day. Which was odd, because the sight that Betsy Nolan, unbeknownst to her as the knocks on the door almost reverberated through its wood, was about to see was one she couldn't have forgotten if she tried.

She pulled open the door and found Emma standing there, which would've been a shock if she didn't know her so well. There was a large bruise on her face, creating a dark ring around her eye. Exhaustion seemed to be a part of her now, and despite the jacket she wore that should've kept her warm the only thing that looked like it was keeping her conscious and away from disassociating entirely was the constant quake of her muscles.

For a while, they just stood like that, on either side of the doorway.

For a while, Betsy didn't know what to say.

It was utterly terrifying. Emma was standing right in front of her, yet it felt as if she wasn't even there and Betsy could look past her without missing a single detail that was on her face, imprinted in the air somehow. As if she could stick her hand through the teenager without anything happening. She'd just be touching the air. Through all of this, the bizarre hologram-Emma would still stand there. In that same spot, unmoving except for her terrified trembling. The longer Betsy looked at her, the longer the seconds ticked, during which Emma was frozen, unblinking, staring at the yellow-ish lights of the living room.

Finally, Betsy surged forward, pulling Emma into the lights of home. Her eyes didn't seem to glow golden off of the yellow like they always do. Instead, they were empty, dull. Then Betsy finally noticed Emma's hair. Almost entirely gone--a buzz cut?

* * *

_Connor, could you pick up some of your stuff? Your father insists on not touching it._

Emma glared at the text that just showed up on her phone screen, worried. She contemplated the quick question for a moment, before deciding hesitantly she might still have a reason to trust her mother.

Her old house felt different as she found herself back on the porch. She swallowed, heart pounding.

Seeing a silhouette in the door moments before it opened was enough to make Emma decide to turn around, but she was too late.

"You know, Connor, it doesn't have to be like this. You can fix this. Fix us." Her father's voice held affection, but the cold, deceitful kind.

Emma kept moving. "No." She was more confident about this decision than she ever thought possible.

"C'mon buddy, stop lyin' to yourself."

"I'm not."

Suddenly his hand grabbed at the back of her shirt as she tried to run.

"All you need to do is cooperate."

Emma stayed silent but was still physically fighting back from her father's attempts to get her in the house. Emma couldn't scream in this situation, there was no one around to hear her, much less anyone who could or would help her.

It was almost like she forgot that her father was a full-grown man who took pride in his manhood.

Needless to say, Emma stopped being able to fight after a while. She completely lost track of everything as her father's pseudo-calm voice turned to almost unintelligible screams.

And then her head was slammed into the porcelain sink in the bathroom, striking so hard it left her eye stinging. She heard the sound of the faucet turning on, but it was nothing in comparison to the way that razor buzzed electric a few moments later and sawed her in two.

"Maybe that'll knock you out of it."

* * *

"It's gonna be okay, sweetie. I'm here now. I've got you, baby girl."

There was a long frame where Emma couldn't do anything except cling to whatever could remind her she was here. She was alive. The whole of her being felt dark; numb. She was thrashing around in an empty black ocean that had no waves, no motion, yet it was sucking her in and making her become one with it, but at the same time, she was standing here. Wherever here was as time trudged slower with every moment and she was slowly trapped in the sea of infinite dark forever, left to be the literal skeleton of who she once was. Chipped away at, again and again, until only her skeleton was left and she couldn't even feel this sorrow anymore. 

It wouldn't be worth living if all that was left was a skeleton.

“You're okay. I’ve got you. You're with me.”

Betsy spent Lord knows how long trying to coax Emma out of her blank, almost lifeless state. She made the mistake of wondering where Emma would be if it weren't for this and had to suppress a violent shudder of her own, as she was practically holding Emma upright.

Finally, Emma seemed to register the warmth that was all around her. She nestled her head further into the crook of Betsy’s neck, and Betsy let out the breath she'd been holding since Emma showed up.

Another moment more, and Emma finally croaked out "I'm so sorry, Gran..." she didn't even try to adjust her voice.

"No," Betsy said, tears suddenly brimming her eyes as she led her grandaughter to the couch. "I'm sorry."

Emma looked up at the ceiling for a moment as Betsy asked:

"What did he do?"

Her eyes went empty again.

"No, no, no! Shit! Emma!"

"Which he?"

"What?!"

Emma had picked today to wear her necklace, as a reminder that no matter what happened, Pops would've been proud. Slowly, she untucked it from where it usually stayed beneath her shirt and started playing with the charm as it dangled, making it spin around itself.

It was now the Thursday after the break. Alyssa sat in first period, the one class she and Emma had together their junior year before class started. Her gaze bounced rapidly between the door and the clock. She hadn't spoken to Emma since Tuesday afternoon, and at this point was seriously worried. She'd left countless texts, left countless missed calls, The bell rang, and Alyssa's heart sank.

The teacher sighed, exasperated, as she marked Emma absent again. "Has anyone heard from Connor?"

Everyone in the room turned to Alyssa, who seemed oblivious to the scoffs of her classmates. Feeling their stares, she finally looked up.

"I never knew 'Connor', and neither did you."

By next Tuesday, Alyssa couldn't sit around waiting anymore, not with the rumors that she had been kicked out of her home rooting in. This was the only time she would ever ditch cheer practice, and instead of going to the mall like she may have freshman year, she found herself walking around the outskirts of town, searching for the familiar truck. Then she was knocking on the door of a house she had hardly driven past, caught off guard when an elderly woman answered the door. Alyssa closed her eyes for a moment as the woman scanned her face and seemed to recognize her.

"Is Emma Nolan here?"

The woman nods slightly. "You must be Alyssa. Lord knows I hope so... Do come in."

She leads her up the stairs, introducing herself as Betsy. She intrudes in on Emma's room without knocking, finding the girl desperately trying to move a nightstand against the green wall.

"Someone's here to see you."

Emma turns in disbelief as suddenly Alyssa is being pushed forward.

"Hi," Alyssa blushes.

"You--" Emma's jaw hung open in disbelief.

Alyssa shifts further into the room "I could say the same...so the rumors are true?..."

Emma looks at her, silent for a moment. "Why are you here, Lys?"

Alyssa hesitated. "I...couldn't leave things the way they were."

"Alyssa. The fact is that you deserve a girl who's seen as...well, a girl..." Emma said with a sigh.

"But there's no other girl who's... _you_ , Em."

Finally, Betsy saw the light in her little girl's eyes return.

Over the next year and a half, Alyssa made Emma happier than she had ever been. She became a regular guest in Betsy's home, so it was of no surprise to her that Alyssa had asked Emma to senior prom, saying she was finally ready to come out. What did shock her though, was how little anyone seemed to care on a surface level.

"He'll never be a _girl_ , so I don't see a problem," Veronica Greene argued on behalf of the PTA. The entire senior class had been dragged into the gym for this meeting, seeing as Emma's existence had created quite a stir surrounding prom. Alyssa stared at her shoes, sat on the complete opposite side of the bleachers so she wouldn't look suspicious; as if she "disagreed with the school's beliefs". 

"Ms. Greene, I don't believe you're understanding--" Mr. Hawkins started, but was cut off by Betsy, who was made well aware of this situation by now.

"My granddaughter has been ostracized by our community for 18 months now. She has come home to me with _bruises_ , Ms. Greene. And why? Just because she's trying to be happy. What if it was your daughter who dealt with this?" Ms. Nolan shot an icy look at her opponent.

"That's different, Betsy," Veronica responded.

Betsy pursed her lips, elegantly hiding a laugh. "How so?"

"She wouldn't be seeking attention, unlike Connor." Veronica's voice held a remarkable amount of poise.

"Emma knew full well the risks coming out. Would she face all this for attention?"

Veronica seemed to ponder that for a moment as if this was a discussion she may be willing to have...

And then the gym doors flew open with a bang. Everyone's head turns to the sound as 4 people barge into the gym holding picket signs. Emma's eyes bug open at the sight of a pair she recognizes.

"Where's the lesbian kid?!" One of them hollers. Reluctantly, Emma raised her hand, and the man, who Emma recognized as "FDR" scans her face. "No, no, no."

Emma takes a step back.

"What's going on?!" Someone shouts.

"Where's Dee Dee?!" Someone holding a picket sign yells.

FDR suddenly begins a long-winded rant. "Kid, you gotta understand. Lesbian is a term for girls. You don't look like a girl. You look like a druggie. You have the hair of a druggie, is that it? Is that why you weren't allowed into prom?"

Meanwhile, it kept getting louder. It kept getting angrier. Amongst the chaos, she was still segregated by her peers. Why did people have to get angry and use her as a scapegoat for why?

"No!" Emma screamed, but she was muted by another entrance.

Eleanor.

"Enough with the madness!" She hollers over Emma as the door opens with a boom. She didn't seem to think the madness had begun with her. That was all it took to send Emma out a side door, unnoticed. As if this wasn't about her.

She should've seen it was _never_ about her.

She paced around the hallway that she and Alyssa’s lockers were in for what felt like an eternity. As she passed the gym over and over, staring at the doors, waiting for something--she didn't know what--she swore she heard the makings of an impromptu song, sounding like a strange musical number. Something, something, "LGBQ teen". Huh. She was invisible, wasn't she?

Finally, the door pulled open. A tall, blonde woman approached with a camera. She looked around the deserted hallway, muttering something about a photo for the rally. That was when everyone else seemed to explode out of the room. Parents escorting their teens out of the gym like a liberal mindset was a threat to their safety. Emma turned around just to roll her eyes. She didn't need another reason to be spit on. She turned around just in time to meet Alyssa's gaze, the sight enough to make her stumble backward just a little, and she hoped Ms. Greene, who was hot on Alyssa's trail, didn't notice. Once her and Alyssa's eyes met, Alyssa flickered her view to her locker and Emma nodded ever-so-slightly.

Not 5 minutes later, Alyssa walked briskly back into the hall, ranting frustratedly as she did. "Oh my God, this is insane! My mom's a half a second from going proper apeshit, she'll never make a compromise!" She kept her back to Emma, who winced.

"It's okay. We have a plan--"

"It was a great plan," Alyssa interjects.

Emma's voice softens. "You know I didn't want this, right? I didn't ask for _this_."

Alyssa finally acknowledged her again, turning to face her.

"I only wanted to go to prom with you, my amazing, beautiful girlfriend, as the person I'm supposed to be. That's all I wanted. That's all I've wanted for _so long_ , Lys. To be myself, with no one staring or beating me up or reminding me who I _was_. I only asked for one night. With you and me and _nothing else_. It didn't have to be anything more."

Alyssa opens her mouth to speak but is met only with a shrill call from around the corner. "Alyssa!"

The moment Emma sees Ms. Greene, her instinct yells to run the other way. Still, she doesn't, only backing away from Alyssa. 

"Get in the car! Now!

Alyssa exchanges one last look with Emma before she gets dragged away by her mother. Then Emma stands there for a while, fairly sure she's the only student left on the property. Regardless, she let herself linger, not wanting to crosshairs with the football team--or worse, the lacrosse team.

When she does wander outside, however, she's caught off guard by people still in the parking lot. She worries for just a split second before realizing it was just Mr. Hawkins. Whether or not the actors he towed beside him were a good thing, Emma trusted her principal.

Eleanor was staring at Emma like she had six heads. Or was that normal staring?

“What's...going on?” Emma found herself asking.

Mr. Hawkins raised a finger slightly as if wondering how to explain this himself. One long explanation of how these actors came from New York to “save” Emma and “pry open the tiny minds of her townsfolk” from Drama Desk Winner Barry Glickman later, Emma was rooted to the blacktop.

The moment Barry finished speaking, Emma was bombarded with another question.

“What took you so long?”

“I had to talk to someone,” Emma replied nonchalantly. “And then, y'know, to wait a little longer so I don't get punched.” 

She said it so casually like it was nothing. And to her, sure, it didn't mean anything. It was just her everyday life. A thing she had to live with, at least until she could escape Indiana. She hadn't thought about actually being able to get out of here in a long time, more concerned with surviving a world where she was open, yet ignored. 

But these actors? Chances are, they never knew what a town like this was like. Eleanor--No, Dee Dee--seemed to think she gained another head. Trent was suddenly fuming. Angie looked terrified. Then Emma turned to Barry. He didn't react nearly as much as anyone else, a look in his eyes that suggested he...understood? It was him who finally started again.

“Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.

Emma saw her hand begin to shake. Almost by instinct, she felt herself close up.

“It's--It’s fine. I'm fine, Mr. Glickman.”

Emma turned on her heel and walked away, leaving a small band of horrified actors.

“So. That's what you walked in on. That's...this is, unfortunately, the life Emma's been living. Can you handle this?” Hawkins turned to the group. 

As Trent, Angie, and Dee Dee exchanged glances, Barry piped up.

“She needs us, sir.”

“What have you gotten us into, Barry?” Dee Dee asked.

The quartet was about ready to sink into their shitty motel mattresses they all thought were worth way too much when Sheldon walked in.

“Any news?” Angie asked.

“Julliard almighty, we need it,” Trent muttered.

A quiet groan fills the room.

“I got you guys a booking at the halftime show of something called a monster truck rally! How’s that Sondheim coming?”

Trent giggled awkwardly. “About that. Sondheim _hated_ my Sweeney Todd. But! But, do not fret, my dear friends. I have composed a tune of my homegrown nature. Have a look.”

He started handing out printer paper that appeared to have coffee spilled on it.

“Did that have to be a monol-oh, my God…?” Barry whispered.

“You rhymed _bigotry_ with _big of me_?”

“Take that, Lin Manuel Miranda!”

Emma couldn't believe her eyes. Or her ears. The grainy phone video hastily taken by someone at her school was the worst thing her senses had experienced. Had the composer even learned more than basic lines and spaces? She rolled her eyes as the “ensemble” busted out recorders for 4 measures. She wanted to punch her laptop screen in, but she suddenly had a reason to stop watching the video.

**ATTENTION SENIORS:**

Emma still couldn't believe her eyes, but within a moment, the reason why had changed.

“... **due to legal pressure from the ACLU and the state of Indiana, prom is back on** …”

“What?” Emma whispered into the room.

Monday morning after the e-mail. Emma met Mr. Hawkins before school at the motel the actors were supposedly staying in. Screw the specifics, it was the only motel within 50 miles of Edgewater.

Hawkins knocks on the door softly. Emma hears a groan from the other side and is met with fear. She was only a burden to these people, wasn’t she?

It’s Barry again. He looks surprised to see Emma with Hawkins but lets them in. Wringing her hands together, Emma follows Hawkins in as he says.

“Emma and I wanted to be the ones to tell you, due to legal pressure from the state, prom is back on.”

The once dead inside performers suddenly lit up, starting a chant of “Yay, us!” As if it was scripted, even though they had no idea of this moment a minute ago. Was this what theater was like?

Emma kind of wanted to be a part of it.

Hell, she just wanted to be a part of _something._

She stayed silent.

“Just for the record, it had nothing to do with you.”

Emma turned to Hawkins, not wanting to face the actors. “You know, maybe they’re right. They showed up and really scared people.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kid,” Barry says. It was you who scared people.”

Emma shifts uncomfortably. There it was again. The spotlight, hovering just above what she could see when she looked up, its heat so obvious. The blame, an arrow through her heart.

Didn’t actors love the spotlight?

Finally, it hit her. _Senior Prom_ was in a week. Oh, God. She must’ve said that out loud because suddenly she got a question whipped back at her.

“What are you gonna wear?”

Emma blanked. A dress didn’t seem like her wildest fantasies. Maybe that was the way she’d been conditioned as a kid screaming, karma-filled, back at her. Maybe it was that she knew she couldn’t fill out a dress; it would somehow remind her of everything she wasn’t yet? She didn’t know. Despite her ever-supportive grandma, Edgewater would always be hostile. Dangerous for a kid like her. She never could experiment with her gender presentation in the past. If she toed the line of “too feminine for a ‘boy’” she’d be even more of a punching bag. She couldn’t do that, that would kill her just as much as trying to correct anyone.

“Uhm...I don’t know.”

Barry gaped, dramatically near fainting. “You don’t know?! Well, we’ll have to have a fashion show!”

Emma grinned as Barry grew excited. “I have a couple of dresses in my closet—for emergencies!”

She breathed out a chuckle. “Okay…? Great! We can do that at my house tomorrow after I find out if I still have a date.”

“Your parents are okay with a middle-aged man in your bedroom?”

Emma’s stomach suddenly swooped. She could faintly hear the buzz of that damn razor every time she so much as thought about it, her heart recreating it’s whir against her skin by way of its metaphorical crashing into her ribs as she could feel a vibration in her chest. Her throat went dry, and she wanted to run, but she was stuck in place. Her gaze dropped to her shoes.

“Emma’s parents...they kicked her out. She was 16.”

More horrifying tastes of reality for the actors, who all looked to Hawkins in horror.

“We...don’t really speak.”

“Oh my God, you and I are, like, the same person,” was the last thing Emma expected to hear. She looked up at Barry, a tear running down his cheek.

“I haven’t spoken to my mother in 30 years.”

God, did this ever get easier?

The atmosphere at school was a sudden change. Overwhelming love flooded these halls where there were usually just tired kids. Watching corny promposals made Emma stupidly happy, even if it was Nick Boomer promposing. She made a difference, and it showed. Today, no one seemed to mind her existence as she slipped into the band closet, and Alyssa was...holding a sombrero?

Alyssa flushed red. “Sorry about this! I was helping Kevin with his promposal. I’m honestly happy for him and Shelby, but more importantly, I’m happy for _us_.”

“No more hiding!” Emma beamed.

“Y’know, I’ve counted 6 promposals today. I think this will be 7 now?”

“Wh—“

Then Alyssa dropped to one knee, presenting a cheap-looking bracelet from Claire’s. “Well, will you go to prom with me, Emma?”

“You already asked me that.”

“This is a legally mandated prom!” Alyssa countered.

Emma responded by leaning down to kiss the top of Alyssa’s head, eyes shining with a kind of hope Alyssa didn’t think she’d seen, ever.

Emma melted into the sensation that briefly lingered on her neck.

The week flew by, especially with no one giving her shit. And now, she was standing in the bathroom mirror. It didn't feel right at all. Room for things that weren't there, nothing for what was.

Still, Barry was yelling about Carol Channing-Tatum.

“I'm coming out!” Emma called through the door.

“It's a bit late for that,” Barry commented as she emerged. He scanned her down.

“Show off your shoulders, you've got good shoulders.” He messes with the ruffles on her sleeve.

Emma hated her shoulders.

Finally, after waiting for what felt like forever, she was going to prom. Barry insisted on renting her a limo, where he attempted to make small talk. A girl who was living on a property where ducks were an accepted problem, talking to a city-dwelling man.

“So, what's your mysterious date wearing?”

Emma wished she had an answer. She would kill for an answer.

“I don't know.”

“She didn't give you a little fashion show?”

“I’ve never been to her house,” Emma confessed.

Her gaze dropped to the neckline of her dress. She forgot her necklace at home.

She covered her sudden emotions well. “Her mother doesn't know about us.

“How long have you been together?”

“A year and a half.”

“Oh, honey.”

Emma hated seeing Barry pity her. “But she’s coming out tonight, big time…!”

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Honestly, terrified.”

“Why?”

“Well, if all my peers still hate me…”

“They're all gonna see the bravest person.”

The limousine finally parked in the bus circle outside James Madison. Emma was buzzing with excitement, even if only for Alyssa being finally free beside her. To her shock, the whole Broadway Gang was waiting for her at the door.

As Emma stepped out, they're all talking. She can barely process it all until Barry says “Go. Have the night of your life.” Suddenly they're at the gym doors.

“Wait,” she stuttered out, turning to Barry. “Will you walk me in? I'm a little nervous.

“Of course,” he says. 

They look elbows, and Emma sees Trent and Angie open the doors from the corner of her eye as she can't help but wonder if this is what a father was supposed to be like. Supposed to do. That scares her just a twitch. But it feels right.

This was going to be the most magical moment of her life…

And the gym was empty, except for a few half-assed, sporadic decorations. Mr. Hawkins is _still_ taking it in.

“Is the theme of the prom Death Row?”

“There's been a mistake.”

“The parking lot is empty.”

Emma didn't have to hear Mr. Hawkins explain. And she didn't. Her ears rang so loud she could barely hear her phone.

“Alyssa…?!”

“I swear I had no idea!”

“You were on the prom committee! How could you not know?”

“Kaylee and Shelby! They found out about us!”

Emma's lip trembled. She heard her father's voice scolding her. _Strong men don't need help, Connor. They don't let people see them as anything but what’s true. Strength. Real men don't cry. What are you, a pansy?! A fag?!_ This was the last thing she needed right now, yet it happened, and without thought, Emma hung up on Alyssa Greene. The one thing she had left.

“Here's what we’re gonna do…” Emma's ears rang again. She couldn't hear if Alyssa called again.

“No!” She screamed. “You’ve done enough! Just stop! Stop trying to help me!”

She got to her feet and ran.

Emma and Alyssa never properly broke up, but it sure as hell felt like it. Emma had let herself be tricked. By Alyssa? By these actors? By Principal Hawkins? By the kids who seemed okay with her there? Emma touched her neck where Alyssa used to kiss it. It was numb until she did, and then it burned. She watched the doorknob jiggle open.

“Webrought Haagen-Dazs!” Barry singsongs.

“It's fancy ice cream,” Trent supplies.

“I know what Haagen Dazs is.”

Emma reaches for a carton and the stupid plastic spoon that came with it. In the background, the adults are busy chattering about what to do about this.

“There's so much hate in the world I'm gonna need more of this shit,” Emma muttered under her breath. 

“We need to get her on TV!” Angie suddenly shouted.

“What? No!” Emma interjected.

“Aw, you've only got stage fright, kid.” Angie tries to assure her. She turns to the rest of the group.

“I got this, guys!” She ushers them out and starts telling a story about “Zazz”.

It takes a while, but Angie is finally able to say something that strikes a chord in Emma. “Think about Ms. Greene.”

And instead of thinking about how Ms. Greene hurt _her_ , she thought about how hurt Alyssa sounded.

She regretted hanging up on her.

“Think about that fake prom. Think about finally doing something about it.”

Dee Dee and Company had barged in at the worst possible time, and ultimately made things much worse, but they reminded Emma that the way she had been treated for over a year was fucked up, downright disturbing. And they reminded her she had the power to change that.

_They don't let people see them as anything but what’s true. Strength._

Emma went back to school the Monday after "prom", which had been on a Saturday. This was much to Betsy's objection, but Emma had firmly decided a long time ago that she wouldn't let other people bring her down. School was back to its usual state. People being asses to her, which was almost comforting, somehow. It was only a twinge worse when they talked about their real prom around her like it was an inside joke that they wanted to shove in her face just because she didn't understand it. She passed by Alyssa once that day. She didn't look at Emma, but still, she didn't turn away completely. Emma looked at her for a fleeting moment. She just looked plain tired. The way Emma once did when she got kicked out. It wasn't fair.

That's why she picked up her head with every whisper. Stood a little taller as they stared at her necklace. It was the first time she let the charm of it loose in the office-like lighting of the typical American public school. To her surprise, it shone. Every rhinestone glittering like they each created an individual masterpiece with every one of them. She let herself look people in the eyes. She let herself not worry. It was the biggest fuck you this town had seen in a while.

_I'm not dead. I'm not fixed, but I'm not giving up yet._

As school let out, Emma lagged behind her classmates in the typical way she always did. Conveniently, she missed the news trucks. Without thinking, she started driving to the motel.

Meanwhile, some other seniors were meeting at 24-Mart.

"I saw us on _CNN_ ," Kaylee scoffed.

"Seriously?!" Shelby shoots back.

"Yes! Edgewater, Indiana 'overflows with bigotry'!"

"I saw a Fox News van on my street yesterday!"

"At least they're on our side!"

Suddenly Trent Oliver walks by. Little did anyone know, he was simply escaping Dee Dee's wrath.

"Isn't that the guy from _Talk to the Hand_?"

"Greetings, fellow kids!" He shouts over the chatter.

"Okay, Boomer. What are you doing here?" Nick mutters. Next to him, Kevin Shield laughs at the irony.

"Just...walking," Trent says, diverting his eyes.

"Whatever," someone mumbles.

"Woah, Woah, Woah! Wait! All we have is an ideological divide! Let's build some bridges, yeah?" Trent's natural theatrics keep the crowd still. Upon a neural reaction, he continues.

"I'll begin. I'm an actor, developed in the forge of Julliard, I'm sure you've heard of--"

"No?"

"Oooh, that explains a _looot_." A pause. "Wait, wait, no!"

He grabs Kaylee's shoulder. "What about you? Who _are_ you?"

"Kaylee."

Trent suddenly gets an idea. "No, Kyle, that's your name. Who _are_ you?"

"Well, I'm a _girl_ , first off."

"And why does this 'girl' hate homosexuals?"

The crowd erupts into chaos.

"Connor? Connor's not gay, I don't get why--"

"He doesn't follow the Bible anymore, that's why!"

"So, we're Christians?"

"Good Christians!" Kaylee supplied.

"I happen to know JC," Trent said. He scans Kaylee's arm. "Doesn't he not like tattoos, Kyle?"

"Well, that's different."

"How, Kyle?"

"My name is Kaylee, I'm--"

"Really, man?!" Trent shouts over her. Kaylee looks uncomfortable. as she realizes she can't change Trent’s mind.

“...Connor’s not a girl.”

“And Emma?”

Kevin pipes up upon Kaylee’s angry silence. “My stepdad always says--”

“Your step-dad, Roberta? Divorce is against the Bible!”

He strides over to Shelby. "I bet--you, yes, um, Lucas, you've lost your virginity. I mean, look at that crop top. That was pre-marital!”

The second Shelby tried to object, Trent grabbed her arm and twisted it slightly.

“Lucas.”

“What was that for?”

“Is that not what you're doing to Emma?” Trent interrogated.

A realization sweeps across Shelby’s face.

“Why should we care?” Nick yelled to Trent.

Trent bounced back with four words. “Love thy Neighbor, Diane.”

“Maybe he has a point, guys,” Shelby said. “We're all sinners, so if it's gonna make...Emma... happier to be a girl, it's not the worst thing...she could do.”

Kaylee laughed suddenly. “I can't believe you had a crush on a girl, then.”

Shelby's gaze lingers on Kaylee for a moment too long. “Um, yeah. Ha.”

* * *

Emma knocked softly on the motel door.

“Come in,” Barry’s voice is muffled by the wood.

Emma pulls the door open, caught off guard when it’s just Barry, alone.

“Where’s...everyone else?”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Dee Dee’s probably smooching on Mr. Hawkins as we speak to get over her anger issues, Trent is escaping Dee Dee’s anger issues, Sheldon’s getting you a TV booking, and Angie...she’s blending in with the antelope or something.” He scans Emma's face again.  "Christ, kid, you look exhausted."

"I--am." Emma's voice broke, tears at the corners of her eyes as she sat next to Barry. "I'm tired of people telling my story for me. Calling me a pity or a dumb fag who's easily tricked, with no in-between."

Barry bit his lip, unsure of himself for the first time in a while. "Then you have to do it for yourself, kid. Tell them what you and your mystery girl have been through just to be yourselves."  


Emma's mind flickered to playing love songs for Alyssa, one of the only people in the world she dared to let hear her real self. The fairy lights in her peaceful little refuge of a green bedroom held them there like they were the only two people left in the world, twinkling like an entourage of fireflies, lighting their faces a little yellow. Emma would never get used to the way those lights got caught in Alyssa's dimples as she lay there sprawled out on Emma's bed, humming along because she claimed she couldn't sing. Time tasted like honey with Alyssa Greene. Moments smelled like roses, the special days that were so rare sounded like sweet giggles that caught in Emma's ears and got her through the bad ones. The world was nothing but her.

And Emma let herself hang up on her.

The girl she was still in love with.

"God, she loved it when I sang."  


"Loved?"

Emma couldn't control her emotions anymore. She was thrown back to her last day with her grandfather, and even that memory hurt like hell as she choked out "We--we haven't spoken since...since prom." And then she was crying on Barry Glickman's shoulder. But she knew what she had to do.

Ignoring her nerves, she began quickly. "Hello, Interwebs! My name is Emma Nolan. Maybe you heard about the fake prom in Indiana? That was me, and it was just...awful...in every way. But I was talking with a friend of mine, and I decided to try and find a little good in this world. Everyone has a story to tell, and here's mine... I--uh, hope you don't mind my voice. I don't get to share it often, but...now I want to be real. Just me and my guitar..."

And then she hit upload.

School the next day was...different. There was something unspoken hanging over the student body. Another emergency PTA meeting was announced. And then Emma went online during lunch. To her strange elation, there was a link to her video.

**Guys, have you SEEN this?**

**I HAVE**

**IT'S INCREDIBLE**

**brb sobbing during class**

**HOLY SHIT.**

**SHE GOES TO MY SCHOOL.**

**seriously jack?**

**That's AMAZING.**

Emma blinked, simply taking it in. She took another moment to snap a quick selfie.

**what a weird face reveal.**

She sends the photo.

**hi.**

Suddenly everyone was yelling at her, and a smile spread across her face.

After school, when Emma arrived in the gym, that was when she began to swear this was all a dream. People were...apologizing? Then there was talk of a second prom? The actors paying for it?

Emma noticed Alyssa walk in as Mrs. Greene began to object, she felt a swirl of guilt, until--

"Mom, stop. You need to just listen for a second. People don't turn gay. Or trans, or anything else. All Emma wanted was to be happy... to be free And..."

"And what, Alyssa?"

"All I wanted was to be free with her."

The crowd gapes, mildly explodes, as Alyssa turned to Emma. "That's still all I want, Em. I still love you."

Emma's breath is shaky as she whispers, "Holy shit...I'm so sorry."

Mrs. Greene is silent, yet fuming, Barry could tell if they weren't in public, her reaction would be much worse, so he leans in and whispers. "You're going to lose your daughter if you don't try to accept this. I'm telling you this because I _know_ what it feels like to lose a mother, and I can tell you Emma does too. Look at how _happy_ they are, Mrs. Greene, no kid should be shunned for being happy. They both need you."

This was a reality check as Mrs. Greene simply told her daughter "We'll talk," and walked out the gym doors. She had some thinking to do.

In the meantime, it was really happening. Emma was going to prom. With Alyssa. As herself. Her wish had come true and she couldn't believe her eyes as Alyssa stared at her like her eyes held the stars. She finally got to be a kid like anyone else as she picked Alyssa up bridal style and kissed her gently on the lips, pouring all her apologies and emotions into it. She thought she heard the shutter of an old camera but it no longer mattered over the sounds of the elation of her peers. Something she never imagined for Edgewater. But, hey, look what happens when you're a dreamer. You get something bolder, and bigger, and better, and more beautiful than you ever imagined. Emma opened her eyes again, looked at Alyssa's tan skin, chocolate eyes, pearly teeth, and dimple-dented face, and she realized that was exactly what she ended up with. The most beautiful thing her mind could conjure.

"I love you...so much, Lys."


	4. All It Takes is One More Step, and Then I'm Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! On the chapter I most wanted to write, no less! I had medical stuff happening.
> 
> Be warned that this chapter is a bit more, mm, saucy, and contains implied vomit and underage drinking, but nothing explicit!
> 
> Enjoy, my dear reader.

“Gran!” Emma called out the second she got through the door. Once both her and Alyssa were concealed by the wall, she grabbed her hand simply because she could. “You’ll never believe what happened at school today!”

In her typical, magic-like way, Betsy appeared on the foot of the stairs without making a sound. “Try me.”

So, Emma told the whole story over again. Betsy was purely mystified in the end.

“I--Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Y'know, kid, that's on you.”

Emma and Alyssa eventually ended up in Emma's room, where the elephant in the room was brought up.

“Emma, what exactly happened at the first prom?” Alyssa asked. “Why did you hang up on me?”

Not wanting to get into the full gore of her father's rather sexist ideas that he tried to push onto her when he thought he was raising a boy, Emma said instead “Emotions are...complicated--and they get in the way, and they're not really something I understand. And I--”

She groaned, at a loss for words. “Fuck, I'm so bad at this.”

There was a pause.

“I guess it--I thought this would be easier to talk about if...if it wasn't--if I could process it a bit.”

Alyssa hummed lightly. “That's...an interesting tactic.”

“What?”

“You’ve never been in a gaggle of middle school girls crying over a boy.”

Emma sucked in a breath, drawing her knees to her chest.

“Shit, sorry.”

“No. It's not you.” Emma mumbled.

“What happened, then?” Alyssa asked.

“At the fake prom, I was wearing a dress. And the whole time, it just felt...wrong. And a part of me wondered if I'd ever just...y'know, get to be one of the girls and if I’d ever get to actually transition and fill in those missing holes,” she finally confessed.

"You will," Alyssa's voice indicated a promise. "We haven't got long left here."

A few days had passed, and the conversation the Greene household had been intending to have still had not happened. It hung over the women like a heavy bag of sand on their spines. They ate dinner in silence now, and Alyssa was worried that at any moment her mother would work up the courage to tell her coldly to get out. And then there would be nothing between them except emotionless silence, and once that was over, Alyssa would have nothing. One night, finally, Veronica shot up from her seat as Alyssa was leaving the dinner table. Her heart sank.

“I want to talk about...this...Alyssa.”

She sat down again, both of them did, slowly this time. Alyssa had never seen her mother so desperate, yet so calm. It was almost disturbing.

“I've done enough thinking to realize I want to support you no matter what, even if that takes time,” Veronica began. “But I don't understand what's going on with...Emma? Is that what you call him?”

Alyssa swallowed, putting all her effort into staying composed. “Emma is transgender,” she began, swearing she saw her mother flinch. “Which means she was born a boy, but it makes her feel better to be seen as a girl.”

Seeing her mother’s confusion, she continues. “Think of it this way; this is an analogy Emma has used. It's like wearing a mask that clearly looks nothing like you, but you can't take it off because it's stuck on your face, and it becomes the person people know you as. People only ever knew Emma as a boy because that was the mask she got stuck with.”

“So you're calling yourself a lesbian because of the fact that Emma's transgender?”

“No,” Alyssa clarified. “I only started...having a crush on her after I figured out that she was actually a girl.”

A memory flashes through Veronica's mind. “Oh.”

Their little chat lasted a long time.

* * *

Emma couldn't believe this was real. Barry was still insistent that Emma got her prom wear from somewhere better than the Wal-Mart a few blocks away. But holy shit. She was standing in the mirror in a dressing room in a store that had to be at least 2 hours away, even with Dee Dee not caring for speed limits...at all...and it was _perfect_. She couldn't explain how it felt to be wearing this suit. Although it was “female-tailored” and didn't fit her in every place, she looked in the mirror and finally saw a glimpse of herself. Her heart was racing. This was the complete, polar opposite of dysphoria. 

She had never felt that before.

She exhaled, trying to avoid starting to cry from the elation before she even stepped out of the dressing room, and then she opened the door, taken aback by Barry’s immediate gasp. The quartet of actors looked at her, stunned. There was a quick silence, and it was broken by Angie.

“Now that's Zazz, kid.”

Emma bit her lip to keep her grin from splitting her face in two. Still, she was afraid she might burst her lip open.

Yeah, it was perfect. Prom, the date for which Barry had advocated June 1st, would be perfect. Emma's mind suddenly wandered to Alyssa. Alyssa Greene, the most popular girl in school, the one everyone wanted, would be hers, on full display. What would the world think of that?

Screw the world. It didn't matter. It didn't exist. Not with Alyssa. 

Speaking of Alyssa, when Emma got home late that night, she was surprised to find a text from her.

**Where have you been today? I tried calling.**

Emma knew Alyssa well enough to know that she rarely called unless it was something important. Too important for text.

"Ah, shit...Hello?"

"Em?" Alyssa's voice sounded rough and tired. Emma had to admit it was rather cute, the sound making her stomach do a complete 180. Some small spark in her wanted to get to hear that more often, and not solely through a phone. Her heart fluttered at the connotations of that. She would never have sex, at least not until she transitioned...which left...Oh.

"Y-you called? Earlier?" Emma stuttered out, trying to suppress the thought.

"Oh. Yeah. My mom and I finally talked." Alyssa mumbled sleepily.

"What did she say, Lys?"

"She...wants to have you over for dinner before prom."

"Well, it's something," Emma laughed. "Of course she does."

Alyssa failed to stifle a yawn from the other end.

"Alright," Emma whispered in response "I'll let you go, baby."

Alyssa moaned incoherently, rolling over. It was as if Emma could feel Alyssa cuddling into her side, kissing the side of her neck, letting herself be spooned. Emma once again shook off the thought as Alyssa finally managed, "Sing for me, love."

"You have to sleep, baby."

By now they were using pet names as if no one could hear them. As far as they knew, no one could, but Mrs. Greene was listening.

"It's been such a long day," Alyssa begged. Emma could hear her puppy eyes.

"Fine, but lie down."

Alyssa had seemed to not notice her phone was on speaker. And Veronica, who was hearing the whole exchange, was hooked.

“There is an ancient party on the other end of town, and he keeps a little grocery store, the ancient’s name is Brown. And he has a lovely daughter, such a treat I never saw. Oh, I only hope someday to be the old man’s son-in-law,” 

Emma's voice was like something Ms. Greene had never heard before. Completely different than how she sounded at school. This Emma was free, knowing Alyssa wouldn't have a care in the world, and to this Alyssa, who was arguably different towards Emma too, her song a sweet, soft call to her lover. Maybe despite both being girls...was Emma a girl? This was real love. A kind Ms. Green hadn't felt since her husband left.

Emma took a sharp breath before continuing. Alyssa probably couldn't tell a difference.

Emma would never be Ms. Greene’s son-in-law. She’d never let it happen.

“Well, Old Brown he sells from off his shelf most anything you please. He’s got juice tarts for the little boys; lollipops and cheese. And his daughter minds the store, and it's a treat to see her serve.”

The next line catches Ms. Greene off guard.

“I’d like to run away with her, but I don't got the nerve.”

Somehow Ms. Greene began drawing more parallels. Was Brown’s daughter supposed to be--No. _That_ crossed a line.

“And it's old Brown’s daughter is a proper sort of girl. Old Brown’s daughter is as fair as any pearl. I wish I were a lord, mayor, marquis or an earl. And blow me if I wouldn't marry Old Brown’s girl.

The song goes on.

_She makes me pulverized._

_She smiles so sweetly when I say a tender word._

It came from a place of such genuine adoration that Ms. Greene began to wonder who else in the world would ever do that for her daughter. Certainly some lawyer would never.

As Emma finished the song, she heard the quiet sighs of Alyssa’s sleep. A delicate, gentle sound. Certainly one of the most beautiful she’d ever heard. It was the type of sound that simply made Emma want to roll over and scrunch herself up so she could kiss Alyssa's forehead. But it was only a phone call.

A phone call that was promptly ended by Emma whispering, “Goodnight, my love.”

As plans for their dinner became more and more official, Emma found herself getting slightly scared by the prospect. Reality began with to settle in and Emma was forcibly reminded of the fact that to her parents, she was a disappointment, a burden, dead to them now. They would have rather lived on as if she didn't exist after 16 years, as opposed to simply calling her a a she. Certainly that makes even the _idea_ of meeting Ms. Greene a bit worse. She had always been a woman of strict expectations, so if Emma disappointed her and got rejected all over again, that would leave Alyssa--No, don't think about that.

Still, here she was, on the porch of her girlfriend’s mother’s home, in her best button up shirt. Sighing to herself, she raised a hand up and listened as the echo of the doorbell sang to the neighborhood she wasn't going down without a fight.

Emma cleared her throat as the door swung open. “Ms. Greene, thank you for having me. It’s a pleasure, ma’am.”

“No, no, the pleasure is mine. Emma, is it? Alyssa has told me so much. You must make her so happy.”

Emma couldn’t control her smile. For most of the night, actually. And it was rather...pleasant. A word Emma never thought she would say about Veronica Greene. But she seemed to be changing for the better. Realizing that in the end, she wanted her daughter to be happy.

Was that something Emma’s father ever wanted? For even his son?

The razor was back. And it didn't go away.

Alyssa was more than a little surprised at first when Emma got quieter again after a successful meeting with her mother. She remembered, though, the rough, almost neglectful relationship between Emma and her parents that had wavered just shy of alarming to most of Edgewater’s citizens. So she could understand Emma’s hesitancy and, no, not quite sadness. Jealousy, maybe? Especially considering that her father had left. Disappeared from town like it was nothing. Even though she had been young, Alyssa’s wondered if her dad had regretted his decision. Except Emma had a reason to know for a fact that her father didn’t give a shit about her. A part of her believed it was her fault. Alyssa knew it, because she had felt it. Saw it in her mother even now.

It was quiet still in the band closet just days before prom. Although they could be together in public now, oftentimes they still cherished privacy. Especially now, when Emma didn't say a word. Tentatively, Alyssa tried to break the silence.

“Emma?”

The young woman hummed in response to her name.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Emma rushed the words.

Alyssa chuckled. “You’ve been...different recently. Kinda quiet. The way you were before you came out. And I—I’m a little concerned.”

Emma groaned. “Lys, I hate talking about feelings.” Her eyes seemed somewhere else momentarily. Then she snapped back with a small shudder.

Alyssa stared knowingly back at her.

“Ugh, you win. You’re lucky I love you.”

“You always have,” Alyssa smiled. And for a moment, the weight of the words she had to say left Emma.

Alyssa wasn’t wrong at all.

But Emma was still silent.

“Is it about your dad?”

Emma winced, which indicates a ‘yes’.

“Talk to me...please.”

“He...he never cared... that I’m a human being. He wanted a son who was the...archetype, I guess, of a man. I don’t know why. He was just… obsessed with the idea of me, filling his shoes? Being... ‘What God built a man for’. I was told constantly that boys don’t cry… so I shouldn’t. Was it because he _knew…_ I… hope not. But when I came out it was like his work was a waste.And he...couldn't handle that. Refused it. So...I guess seeing your mom try...when mine did nothing despite all that… it hurt.”

“Oh,” Alyssa mumbled, running a hand through Emma's hair. But Emma wasn't done yet. She put her head on Alyssa's shoulder and let Alyssa hear how her heart pounded.

“I...can't help but believe they never loved me at all.”

“Well, they missed out on knowing the best person I know.”

“Missed out? On what? Something they didn't want?” Emma was so jaded it scared Alyssa a little.

“I keep thinking about when I came out, Alyssa.” She mumbled, barely audible. “I'm scared all over again...Alyssa, I don't want to be a reason you get hurt.”

Emma's calm exterior was broken then. She balled a piece of Alyssa’s shirt in her fist. “I can't make you sacrifice your mother like Gran had to sacrifice my dad.”

“You're worth it,” Alyssa promised, cupping Emma's cheek in her hand. “You're always worth it.”

“But--”

“No, Emma,” Alyssa shushed her. “Your grandmother was _willing_ to drop your dad. Because she cares about you. And so do I.” 

“You shouldn't have to--”

“Everything's okay between us, Em. Nothing bad. And your parents will never hurt you again if I can help it.”

Emma's breath was shaking as she fought for it. “I--I’m--”

“It's fine. Don't you dare apologize.”

The crook of Alyssa's neck was a great place to hide Emma's shame-filled face. Alyssa leaned over and rubbed her back, carefully aware of avoiding her shoulders. Emma was silent except for her shuddering breaths. 

“What exactly happened--you and him?”

This was the wrong thing to say. Emma immediately tensed up. For a moment, the movement of her chest stopped. Then it began again, strangled. Alyssa pulled her in closer, avoiding her more sensitive areas and placing a kiss on her forehead. Her hand touched to Emma's cheek again.

“It's okay, baby. He can't hurt you, he's not here.”

A part of Alyssa wondered how this could still hurt so bad, but after 15 years her mother still got stiff at a mention of her husband.

“Don't--touch me!” Emma choked out.

Alyssa did as she was told, but noticed Emma clutching her shirt still.

Caught in tidal waves of maddening dysphoria and memories of her father, Emma was paralyzed. Stuck to the ground like it was the moment she realized she had never been loved by those meant to love her most. Why couldn't it go away?

“Hi, you've reached the cell phone of Drama Desk winner Barry Glickman. Please leave a message after the--”

Recorded Barry imitates the voicemail tone and then giggles, followed by the actual tone, prompting Emma's sigh. She just wanted to talk to someone who understood that even after forever, this left a mark. Then she found herself trying a fourth time and finally Barry picked up.

“What the fuck do you want?” Barry's tone, his words, everything feels exactly like when Shelby asked Emma out. The one memory sent her over the edge.

She started sobbing.

Emma had never let herself cry so hard. She occasionally let out some tears, but she never made a scene out of them and never needed help sorting through why they existed. Until now. And to her surprise, she wasn't too ashamed of it.

There wasn't a thing she could do to fix her voice into the way Barry knew it.

“Shit, Em! I’m sorry! That was shitty of me!” Barry panics.

“How do you deal with all this, Barry?”

Though Barry was caught off guard by everything that had happened in 5 minutes, he hid it well. “Ha. Deal with what?”

“The fact your mother doesn’t love you?”

The silence was thick enough to chop a meat cleaver through.

“Emma…” for a second, Barry couldn’t speak, astounded by the implications that had.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Glickman, I just—“

“So we’ve both had a bad day, huh?”

“Mm-hm.” Emma mumbled.

The silence eased up. But it was still there. Tears still waterfalled down Emma's face.

“She's not my mother anymore,” Barry finally said. It was the only thing Emma had heard him say that seemed completely and utterly lifeless.

“What?”

“I grew up in New York. I had the advantage of the bar scene, and things were...different then. So I rather literally tried to forget my mother. I never did. But I found someone better.”

“Found?” Emma wasn't talking much anymore, feeling a tad uncomfortable with her voice. But mostly just grateful for Barry's consolation.

“There are people who won't accept you, and yeah, sometimes that's your ‘family’, but there will always be people who not only want the best for you, but know that being authentically you will do you the most good. _Those_ people are family. _That's_ what love is supposed to look like. And you and I? We get to choose that. It's pretty common. Wether or not it's good…? No one wants to lose people who society says they should love.”

“I'm sorry this was so abrupt--”

“Hey, it's okay,” Barry assured her. “Something happened, you were trapped in your head. Don't apologize for relying on other people every now and again. I've been there too.”

Emma paused before she could say anything. “Thank you.”

“It's my pleasure, kid. People did it for me, I gotta pass on the love.”

They talked some more about it, and a weight had lifted off Emma's shoulders. The razor turned off and finally, Emma's head felt clear for the first time since Harold’s passing. Maybe that was the solace of finding a father figure again? Barry had told her it was okay to feel those things.

Now she could focus on prom.

The night was finally here. Emma looked out the window as she adjusted her tie. The sun was setting, just now turning tints of flecked gold.

“You okay in there? Need help with your tie?” Barry called through the door.

“I'm very experienced with ties, thanks. And yeah, you can come in now.”

“Sorry, kid.”

Emma didn't turn from the window as the floor of her bedroom creaked beneath Barry's weight. He was insisting that Emma didn't look in a mirror until he was done with her makeover. Even an accidental glance would wreck it, or so he claimed.

Instead he stepped in front of her, throwing a bag onto her matress. He opens it and Emma's mind is boggled. There were so many bottles, and...were they called pallets? It made her head spin.

“Don't worry! We're not using them all! I have something in mind!”

It wasn't a ridiculous amount of makeup, just some mascara and blush on top of the standard foundation, which Barry struggled to find a good shade of, but it was enough. Then he put a shade of lipstick in front of her face.

“Want some of this?”

Emma looked down at her nails, which had been painted black, and hesitated.

“it's very nude, especially on you, you’ll barely notice,” Barry promised, so Emma agreed. 

Then she looked in the mirror. A shockwave of stunned silence crashed over her. Barry watched her every movement with curious wonder. She silently pinched herself and upon a dull sensation, she simply blinked. Her breath felt like it rose in a magical mist around her. She didn’t know what to do with herself. If she didn’t do something soon, though, she might explode and implode all at once. Still unable to take it all in, she stepped away from the mirror, and waited a split second before stepping back. It was all still there.

“...So?”

Emma gazed at herself a moment longer, enraptured by her own reflection. And no, she didn’t intend to sound so narcissistic.

“I’m finally looking at...me.”

Barry looked confused, but there was no way Emma could pinpoint words for the feeling, or even the feeling itself. Especially not to someone who had never known dysphoria.

They finally wandered out of Emma’s room, Barry in front to try and hide Emma so all Betsy saw when they stepped into the living room was her forehead.

“Can I see it yet?” Betsy’s question was impatient.

And so he moved away, leaving Betsy to admire. She would remember every detail of that suit, if only because of how happy Emma looked. She had never looked this happy in her life, and she stumbled into the feeling like a newborn foal. Afraid that in one step it may fall away. Then a look Betsy didn’t recognize struck Emma’s face, and she disappeared for a moment, coming back within seconds. It took Betsy a moment to realize the difference.

She picked up the charm from Emma’s neck, fingers brushing her tie.

“He always said I’d get this moment. For a while, I hardly believed him. I think he deserves to see it.”

Betsy crushed Emma in a hug, tears in her eyes. 

“Go get your girl.”

A little later, the Greene household was chaos. Veronica kept smoothing out Alyssa’s dress; fixing her hair.

“I want this to be perfect for you, Alyssa. Not for me.”

“It’s already going to be perfect, mom,” Alyssa said. “Because it’s her, and I know that this time, and any second now she’ll be at the door, and we’ll get to just...be.”

Ms. Greene blinked. She had taken that for granted. And the way Alyssa talked about Emma? It was just the same thing she would’ve said 20 years ago. That was when she decided, unwavering: _Yes, this was real love. And no, gender didn’t matter._

Any second now indeed, the doorbell rang and Alyssa rushed to the door, blush already lacing her cheeks. Veronica laughed, slinking into the background.

Alyssa nearly fell backwards at the sight of Emma, and she could argue Emma did the same. She may have been debate captain and student council president, but no amount of spur-of-the-moment arguments could have prepared her for this moment. Emma was already the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen, but in this suit? She glittered like a goddess, bringing to Alyssa the vibrant colors of a nearly-summer sunset. Her whole body glowed with the aura of an angel, powered by her nervous smile. She held a bouquet of flowers, just the same purples of Alyssa's dress.

Emma found herself blinking in disbelief again as she looked at what was held for her on the other side of the door. Alyssa’s hair was in perfect curls. She wore a modest dress. It was lavender, the same color Emma thought her soul would be if she had to paint it. And it framed her perfectly, showing off her shoulders.

Alyssa actually had good shoulders. 

“You look so beautiful,” Emma wasn't sure who spoke first.

“So do you.”

Emma looked over Alyssa's shoulder once she could get herself to take her eyes off her beautiful girlfriend. She looked to Ms. Greene, a few paces back. A silent request to take her daughter to dance the night away. And Veronica nodded.

So Emma reached her hand out to Alyssa, who took it quietly as they walked to Emma's truck on the side of the road. The truck door closed with a thud and suddenly the couple came alive. Neither spoke, but Alyssa started kissing her. Again and again. Emma lost track of how many times she did it and as she felt Alyssa’s breath on her neck she shuddered in a strange amorous surprise, already panting. Alyssa got slightly less PG-13 upon this, her kisses growing faster as Emma’s weight suddenly ceased to exist. She floated into Alyssa as she felt her tongue begin to explore Emma’s mouth and she turned into liquid. Open-mouthed kissing over and over on Emma’s lips, she was so aroused so quickly by Alyssa’s passion it sent an electrical fire through her and the smoke seeped into the cracks in her brain, making dysphoria curl up and burn in the flames, if she even had any left to exert for whatever went on between her legs. Emma’s moan morphed into a whine as Alyssa pulled away, catching her breath.

“What was that for?”

“Because I love you. Because I can. Because I get to dance with you. Because I love that you get to light up and feel good when I touch you. Because I love that you still do. Because you look like a goddess right now. Because this shouldn’t be real. Because I feel great in this dress. Because you were brave enough to come out. Because you made this happen. Because you’ve always been there. Because you’re mine in front of all of Edgewater and all the news cameras in 10 minutes. Because you’ll always have my heart. Because I know you wanted to do it too. Because I know you loved it. Because old Bessie hasn’t seen enough yet. And because I’m _so_ infinitely grateful for you.”

Alyssa looked at Emma’s lips once more. “Are you wearing lipstick?”

Emma touched a finger to them. “I was.”

“That too. That’s hot.”

Emma was suddenly giddy all over again. “Let’s do this, huh?”

“Prom. Us. This. Who would’ve thought?”

The parking lot was _packed_ as Emma pulled into the school. Luckily, unlike plenty of people who were here tonight from all across Indiana, Emma could go in the student parking, because apparently the rules still apply for a massive event like this. Unlike those same kids and couples who were stumbling around the halls Emma once hated, looking for the signs pointing to the gym, she and Alyssa bounded ahead, the map of the school embedded in them. They ended up leading the way to the gym doors. Emma stopped and looked at Alyssa, who, remembering what happened last time, reached out and squeezed her girlfriend’s hand. Everyone silently nominated her to open the door first. Her heart sped a million miles as she stepped forward. Finally, the door pushed open.

Emma’s gasp sent everyone clamoring as she walked into the gym, transformed completely into a piece of New York eye candy. Glittery everything, shiny disco balls skylines painted boldly onto the usually drab walls. Countless tables of deserts, pride flags hung all over for any identity under the sun. Pins all over desert tables, and stickers too. Music was already blaring and it could be felt in the floor.

It was more than she ever could have dreamed of. She was so excited she might die.

Alyssa was so happy her stomach was doing flips, and suddenly she recalled the first prom. Feeling so full of anger, grief, and sadness that she might vomit. After her phone call with Emma, colors mashed together and she couldn’t speak. Kaylee and Shelby were so worried that they called over Ms. Greene. They didn’t say a word about Emma. Instead only saying that Alyssa looked horribly ill. They weren’t wrong. By that point her head was halfway inside a garbage can. Another car ride did nothing to help that.

This was the opposite of that. She turned Emma around and kissed her once more. Those who saw through the glass panels on the door started getting antsy and poured in.

They too, looked around in disbelief.

That was when Emma spotted Dee Dee with Mr. Hawkins. She ran over to them as chatter began to enter the room. People simply meeting people, dates wandering around together as they chatted, getting used to showing affection in public. Everyone in here was an outcast alone, but together? A spark was lighting in mere moments.

“Thank you guys so much.”

Mr. Hawkins smiled at Emma. “It was my pleasure, kid. You’re really gonna be missed around here.”

Emma laughed. “Don’t get sappy ‘til graduation, sir. If you need me, though, I’ll be over by the deserts.” She gestured to where Alyssa was already piling a cardboard plate with chocolate cake and strolled over to her. 

“Got enough cake?”

Alyssa nodded eagerly. Emma laughed at this.

“Dork.”

Pretty quickly the couple got met with more people. Some knew Emma’s video, others didn’t. Either way, avoiding people was like avoiding an ocean current, and surprisingly, Emma loved it. Everyone was still wanting for something good to play when Emma noticed a large pile of pronoun pins. She hesitated for a moment, watching other people search for a pin.

“It’s okay, take one.” Alyssa said to her. She knew the types of things Emma associated with trying to correct people. “Here, I’ll go first. It’ll be a bit less scary that way. She grabbed a pin that read: _Please use She/Her Pronouns_ in a presentation that was, by some miracle, not completely gendered. A beat longer and Emma grabbed one too.

Finally, something worth listening to gets played and murmurs ripple through the gym. For some reason, the Macarena was necessary? Whatever, it got people dancing. Songs continued for a bit more…

And then Alyssa’s sugar high kicked in. Emma had never seen Alyssa so giddy, moving so quickly Emma couldn’t keep up. Talking so fast it was incoherent at times. When Emma wanted a break from moving fast, Alyssa kept going, for once a free spirit.

Then someone Emma didn’t recognize came up to her spot against the wall, where she sat sipping punch casually, still mesmerized by the sight of a silly Alyssa.

She didn’t know what was in it, or she would’ve enjoyed it a lot less.

“Are you Emma Nolan?” The stranger asked.

“What? Uh, yeah. Hi!” A part of her was shocked to hear her preferred name.

“I’m Eden, by the way. I just wanted to, uhm, thank you, I guess.”

Emma looked at Eden, and laughed. “Thank me? For what?”

“For being brave enough to get us here.”

Emma scanned the other girl. Darker features than Alyssa’s a stark contrast to her flowing pink dress with a lighter-colored train in the back. “Brave? I wasn’t brave. I was just...tired.”

Eden hummed modestly, slipping next to Emma.

“At the start, it was just about Alyssa. She wanted to come out; that was all. But then these actors burst in and showed me just how fucked up the way people treated me was...and I realized I couldn’t live in fear anymore. I just wanted to be me.”

“Yeah, I felt that. I grew up just outside of Chicago, a conservative area. It’s all wannabe gangs in school. And that’s what I was, until I realized I didn’t want to show off my strength. And that was when I knew I was a girl. When I did come out, it went terribly. I was practically exiled from town, but I didn’t care. I was free.”

“It’s like you take the words from me. I came out...some shit happened with my sexist dad, but I stayed here. It was...ugly.”

They chatted for a short while, and Emma had never clicked so quickly with someone since she befriended Alyssa. It was like Eden just...got her. They bounced life stories back and forth. Emma’s grandma and grandpa, Eden’s aunt, then onto weird, stupid stuff. It hit Emma eventually that she had even briefly mentioned her biological father without an overwhelming mental response. Right as she finally brought up the Peanut Brittle Incident.

Eden looked out to the dance floor where Alyssa still was, enthusiastically telling some story neither girl could hear from the wall. “You got pretty lucky with her, huh?”

“She’s my whole world,” Emma said with a blush. “My everything. The kindest heart I’ve ever known. And the brightest mind. I don’t deserve her.”

“Still, she chose you.”

“I don’t know why,” Emma mumbled.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Alyssa looked at Emma and said something before speeding over to Emma and Eden. She lands on her knees in front of Emma and presses the blonde against the wall into a kiss, pressing herself into her. Again, Emma’s stomach swooped. For a few minutes, she was in another world. Forgetting Eden or anyone else existed.

Eden just laughed to herself, wandering off to go get a brownie.

That was when Emma swore she saw Shelby Gonzales. She tensed up under Alyssa’s touch, and Alyssa, scared she had trailed her kisses too far down Emma’s neck, pulled away immediately. Almost the second this happened, Alyssa was dragged away by Barry. If Emma knew the man well enough, it was for some _I Love You, But..._ speech. With the but being _if you hurt my daughter I’ll kill you_.

Shelby was getting closer.

Shit.

“Nolan, you look flustered. Need a drink?”

Emma was silent, not wanting to seem too brash.

Shelby read her mind. “Why am I here? I’m bisexual. I told Kaylee first, she seemed kind of...nervous? But oh well, what can ya do?”

Emma opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Yeah, a drink would be nice.”

She spent a good chunk of the many hours left of prom with Alyssa, eventually roping it into a double date with Eden and her girlfriend. It was 9 o’clock by the time a slow song played. Emma and Alyssa had had enough sugar to last them the rest of their lives.

They stumbled at first. There were classes for this in phys ed, but Alyssa had never led before and Emma had never followed, given the gendered nature of it. Emma looked around and saw other couples doing the same thing. Stumbling through it. Emma stared into Alyssa’s eyes, not losing track of her over the steps

“You’re the most beautiful girl to ever exist, Alyssa Greene.” Emma whispered under the tones of _Chasing Cars_ by _Snow Patrol_ starting.

“No, I think you are.” Alyssa ran a hand through Emma’s hair, finding a piece of confetti stuck in it . She quietly chuckled at Alyssa’s blush and quickly threw the confetti on the floor.

“We don’t need that.”

“We never did.”

“But we got our wish, Emma.”

Emma pulled Alyssa closer, sloppily kissing her jaw. As the chorus began, tears played at Emma’s eyes. “We did. Now, let the whole world melt away and dance with me.”

“Anything for you, m’lady.”

It was over too soon and everyone poured out of the school. Emma made sure to get Eden’s number. Many stopped holding hands when they remembered they were no longer in a bubble. But Emma still held on to Alyssa, who now quietly moaned of a sugar crash and a pounding headache. She looked at the way Alyssa was illuminated by a midnight moon—something she had never seen before— and kissed her lips a final time.

“I’ll get you home.”

Alyssa nearly fell asleep on the ride home. She drooled slightly as Emma shook her awake and then led her back to the porch where she awaited tonight. Ms. Greene wasn’t even awake.

“You good from here?” Emma smiled.

Alyssa did too and nodded, her smile slackened by tiredness as Emma caressed her cheek. “I love you. I’ll see you Monday, Sleeping Beauty.”

Then she slowly walked away, humming along with the cicadas as the house door shut and she began her drive home. She wasn’t alone. There was a whole new heart in her chest now. One that wasn’t rid of fear, but was healing beside an outreach that was only weeks away. New York City. It became obvious now why that was the theme of the prom.


	5. My Own Museum Full of Paintings I Look Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TW's: Nightmares, hospitals and needles! Italicized paragraphs are things shown in the camera/memories! That doesn't make sense now, but I swear it will!

Emma Ruth Greene hated the winter season. She mostly hated the tourists that crammed up her commute into the city for work every day, but days like these marked coughing and sneezing kids in the halls for what felt like forever. These same kids had a tendency to be distracted. The only reason anyone got anything done in her music classes leading up to winter break was the looming date of the holiday concert. The days dragged on as she hoped she didn’t get sick. She usually worked overtime because of the aforementioned concert, and she knew she needed the extra money to get through the holidays, as being a teacher has never paid well. She probably couldn’t afford a day off with the extra monetary pressure of gifts, and either way, she didn’t want to deal with sick kids of her own. Or Alyssa getting sick. Again, more money they couldn’t lose this time of year.

What made living off of coffee before sunrise most days worth it was her students. They loved her class. For some, it was all that got them through the day. She would never forget those times kids chose _her_ to confide in. That creative outlet, they blossomed under it, and Emma loved watching them grow into the proudest version of themselves. It was like watching her own high school self. She talked about Alyssa with pride, reminding them that it did get better. It was for them and them alone that she decided to step up and direct the annual spring musical that started rehearsals after the winter break.

For now, she was just glad to be home. A week and a half of nothing.

Alyssa comes up to the door to greet her. “Hey, babe. How was work?”

Emma sighed, shrugging her coat off her shoulders and hanging it up on the coat rack. She's caught off-guard by two smaller coats already hanging there but goes on anyway. “It just gets more stressful every day leading up to break. Just like every year, but of course, the marking period had to end today.”

“All the more reason you deserve this break,” Alyssa said, gifting Emma with a kiss on the cheek. This was met with a quiet complaint from the couch.

“When did the kids get home?”

“Ah. Right. I had to pick V up from school ‘cause she's got a fever, but I couldn't leave her home alone to pick Ed up normal time. I just took them both home. I tried to get in touch with you, but you know better than most that no call ever gets into that school,” Alyssa explained.

“Yeah. Okay. Makes sense.”

There was a beat before Alyssa continued. “Should I make you a cup of coffee while you get out of your work clothes?”

Emma laughed. “If I have any more coffee today I’ll have a caffeine overdose, Lys.”

Alyssa knew what this meant. “Emma… get your nose out of that gradebook sometimes.”

Emma smiles at Alyssa, who could see her tiredness clearly. “I do try.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes fondly. “You care too much.”

“That's true. And I’ve never worked a day in my life because of it.”

“That's corny as...fudge, Nolan.”

“Nolan, eh? So it's like that.”

“I’m not mad at you. I just worry. You know you have a breaking point.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She would find that breaking point sooner than she thought as she retreated from the workday to her and Alyssa's bedroom.

Alyssa hummed an old tune from her middle school days to herself as she descended down the stairs and into the basement, hoping for a moment of quiet to get some laundry done. Instead, she got Ed Greene at the foot of the stairs.

“Mama? What's this?”

She looked at the object he held up to her. A book with fancy blue lettering in cross-stitch that read...Emma's deadname. Alyssa swallowed.

“Where did you find this?”

“On the same shelf as Mommy's old switch,” Ed said. “I wanted to play with that and noticed it.”

“I’ll have to talk to her about it,” Alyssa said, eyeing the book suspiciously as if it could bring back the dead.

Because it quite literally could.

And then she was knocking on the door.

"Uh--" Emma stuttered out. "Is it an emergency?"

"No, not exactly, but--"

"If there's a but, just come in," she interrupted, giving Alyssa free will to open the door. To her surprise, though, Alyssa let the door shut behind them. Her gaze dropped for a moment as she realized Emma wasn't wearing pants, only a shapeless old t-shirt, and boxers that no longer fit her entirely right.

Alyssa couldn't hide the red that swept over her cheeks, making Emma laugh. “You've seen me like this so many times.”

“And it always gets better.”

“Who's the corny one now?” Emma joked, jutting a hip out for emphasis.

“I’ll take it,” Alyssa affirmed. “We're both ridiculously corny. It's better than what I came in here for.”

Emma's smile fell. She said nothing.

“Ed found a really old photo album of yours,” Alyssa blurted out, she watched Emma's eyes fill up with fear for the first time in a long time. She paled, looking oddly close to passing out.

“Hey, it's okay. That's why I asked you. I could just tell him to put it back and--”

“No.”

“What?”

Emma was silent again, eyes dancing as she searched for words.

“Nothing’s gonna prepare me for this.”

So Alyssa left the room again, leaving Emma alone. She was shell-shocked by what she'd just agreed to. That would mean her kid was about to know the truth. The whole truth. All the ugliest parts of her. The parts of her that she wanted to hide because she knew in any other world, she'd be that boy’s father. She crashed onto the mattress, still telling herself she'd compose herself in just a moment. But the moment never came. She sat there for eons. It felt like eons, at the very least. But she had made a promise, in a way. Ignoring her shaking hand on the doorknob, she re-entered reality. Realizing that she had no idea how much time had passed, she winced as her son looked at her.

What if this all went wrong?

“Why did you wait for me?” Emma whispered.

“Because,” Alyssa shot back, signaling to Emma she knew exactly why.

You're the one who knows what it's like.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut as Alyssa opened the book. Alyssa was shocked by pages upon pages of baby pictures. She imagined the jaded tone Emma used to use. ‘You can't disappoint anyone when you're that small.’ Finally, Alyssa realized that Emma hadn't actually said anything.

“You okay? I haven't heard you breathe in a second.”

Emma chuckled, opening her eyes a crack, but still hiding in the crook of Alyssa's neck.

Alyssa turned the page again, and finally, there were pictures in which Emma was actually walking, climbing onto a big yellow school bus for kindergarten. Then kindergarten “graduation”. It was the next picture over that actually took Alyssa by surprise. One of the Disney parks. The one in Florida; Alyssa never bothered to know the difference between them. Emma and her father standing in front of the castle--you know the one-- both wearing prince outfits. Emma clung onto her father's back and the shot was caught amidst her laughter at her broken prince crown on the pavement. Her father looked annoyed by that but contained it with a tired smile.

Emma shifted a little, catching the photo out of the corner of her eye. But then she couldn't look away. It knocked the breath out of her lungs looking at her past self. Pieces of a memory came back in what felt like a vivid headrush.

_“I'm gonna be right back, Connor. Stay with your mother, I’ll get you a crown.”_

_“But the tiaras look so much cooler, dad.”_

_“I'm not raising my son to wear a tiara.”_

_Emma was silent._

She blinked, trying to pull herself from the memory that made her forget how far she'd come. She made it out alive.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Emma nodded weakly. “Yeah, I just...I forgot about that.”

“That's you?!” Ed snapped out of his confusion and Emma clenched her eyes shut again.

“Yep.”

“That...doesn't make sense.”

She exhaled shakily. This hurt more than she imagined.

Alyssa started explaining the bare bones of what this was, but Emma's ears started ringing as a wave of dizziness pummeled her alive. Alyssa’s words faded in and out.

“Your mother...transgender...born a boy--”

Emma couldn't take it anymore. She blurted out something along the lines of "I’ll be right back," and stumbled into the bathroom, thinking she might puke because of the tilting in her vision. She wanted to do _something_ , but she was completely drained. So instead, she just lay on the tile floor, its coolness absorbing drizzles of her sweat as she waited for the sickness to pass. She was pathetic. She didn't know how much time it had been, but there was a knock on the door. To her surprise, when she struggled to sit up and reach for the doorknob, it was Ed on the other side.

“I'm sorry, Mom.”

Emma's heart skipped a beat. “For what?”

“Those pictures hurt your feelings.”

She wiped the sweat off of her forehead. A relieved exhale. “You didn't do anything wrong. It had to happen at some point. I-- I don't know what came over me.”

There's a silence between them. It's broken when Ed says, “You looked so sad.”

“I was,” Emma admitted.

”I’m glad you’re happy now,” he says as Emma stumbles to her feet. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

* * *

Mary Nolan had a child once. She had made a lot of mistakes with that child. He wasn’t the boy she and her husband, John, had wanted. He got along better with girls, and they hadn’t liked that. They had forced him into sports he hadn’t wanted to play and tried to make him a proper man. Mary regretted this so often in the winter when some odd 15 years ago she had let him go when she should have listened. She should have been there. She should have _known_. But instead, she was scared of what Edgewater, Indiana, might think of her. What her husband might do to her.

He had felt nothing. Did her son think she felt nothing too? That was so far from the truth. She spent this time of year knowing she could have spent it with him, but she knew she had lost her chance to watch him graduate, get married, and start a family the second she let him leave the house one final time. Instead, she had begged her husband to take her to see the Broadway revival of _Kinky Boots,_ starring Barry Glickman. The name rang a bell, as did his face, but Mary couldn’t say why.

It hadn’t been the first time today that had happened. There was a tall blonde woman who had gotten onto the subway car with them. Something about her reminded Mary of her son. Perhaps it was her hazel eyes with a sharp focus on her laptop. Maybe the Teachers Union pins that littered her tote bag, or her smile as she looked at a text from someone, the haste with which she sipped coffee from a Seven-Eleven disposable cup. 

It left a hole in Mary’s heart.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered into the bedroom as Alyssa closed the door behind them again. She refused to look at Alyssa. It was later now, perhaps 10 p.m., as Emma stared at the closed curtain that draped over the window. Alyssa looked at her wife, looking fragile and small despite her height, bunched up on the mattress.

“Why?” Alyssa whispered back.

Emma didn’t say anything, mouth hung open ever-so-slightly. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, searching for a word; an explanation. Instead, she just sighed, and this was a catalyst for Alyssa scanning under the bed, the tips of her fingers brushing against cold metal as she clutched the object and picked it up.

A camera. Emma recognized it immediately as Alyssa hung it over her neck when she let herself look at the world again. She smiled weakly, numbness in her eyes. "We still have that old thing?"

Alyssa chuckled lightly. "Of course we do." She sets herself down next to Emma, fiddling with the buttons on it.

Emma rolled over, turning away from it. "I dunno if I wanna..." her words are suddenly tired, yet rushed.

Alyssa turns to place a kiss on Emma's neck, a thin smile of her own lacing her face. But Emma can't see it and continues to argue.

"I just...It's been a long day."

"I know," Alyssa says, standing from the bed. "But if you ever need a reminder of how strong you are..." she walks over to the empty spot on their long-abandoned bookshelf. Physical books hadn't aged too well. "This has a new home right here."

Emma acknowledged the statement with a mumble that was incoherent as Alyssa finally climbed into bed. The brunette fell asleep quickly, but Emma lay there alone in the black silence for a lingering time she couldn't count. It felt all too similar to being sixteen and alone, truly alone, with nothing but the gore of the truth. This truth was no different than that one. She would never escape the reality that she had been Connor Anthony Nolan. She would never escape her past. When she fell asleep, it had taken tangling herself in Alyssa's arms. Still just like the first time.

In her dream, she was back in high school. After 15 years, she was shocked by how vivid the memory of the school map was.

"How could it not be? " She dared to wonder.

The halls were silent. Nobody left in them. Emma was left waiting for someone to jump out at her. She noticed blood on the walls near one of the many places she had been downright assaulted and wondered if it was too late to turn back, but the answer was found quickly. She had been spotted. The gaggle of popular kids. And Emma, the exiled, 50 feet away. Alyssa--where was Alyssa?!

Everyone noticed her there at the same time, turning with one quick swoop. Finally, Nick Boomer stalked over.

"Hey, Connor."

Emma took a step back. "Hey."

"You've changed...a lot." He eyes her figure intensely.

She shoots back a look of smug pride. "Yep," she replies, popping the 'P' just a little.

"Well, you know what they say..." he pauses with a glare and then turns to walk away. "Nothing gold can stay."

Then he stops, and so does Emma. Then instincts kick in and she runs over to where he stands. By the splotch of blood that she noticed earlier. Alyssa is sitting there, eyes closed, limp against the wall. There are so many bruises, but that can't be all there is. Emma sunk to her knees, cupping Alyssa's face in her palms.

"No, no, no...you can't just..."

"She let herself die, Connor," Shelby's voice rang out among the crowd. "She gave so much for you and the woman you inject yourself to become. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough."

"So I guess it wasn't for him, then?"

The crowd cackled.

" _You_ were the death of her, Connor. Your constant neediness. She was willing to die because you aren't who she deserves. And she knows that. Well, knew."

"Fine," Emma growled. "You wanna play this game? Fine.

Then take me out too, because unlike all of you, if it wasn't for Alyssa all those years ago I'd not be on this Earth."

"You ever wonder if that was what she wanted?"

Alyssa felt herself wake up, yet didn't open her eyes. She could tell it wasn't morning yet, but for some reason, she couldn't pinpoint why she was awake. She rolled over onto her side, expecting Emma's warmth to brush on her skin. As much as they had "sides" of the bed, they never viewed it as a strict rule. Most nights, they ignored that the invisible line existed. To Alyssa's surprise, though, this seemed not to be the case tonight, and the mattress and air around it suddenly turned cold where she a few seconds ago expected warmth. The shift finally forced her eyes open. She looked over at the bed's other end, seeing that Emma had nearly fallen off of it. It didn't make any sense why this might wake her up, but nevertheless, she reached out and pulled her gently back closer to her, tucking a stray hair behind her ear before closing her eyes again. 

Emma's eyes shot open and her heart was pounding, she was sweating. She wanted to throw the covers off of herself, but she couldn't move. All she had were tears, spilling down her cheeks suddenly and alarmingly fast.

Alyssa couldn't fall back asleep. There was tension in the air and it drove her mad. Then it hit her. She was worried about Emma.

Finally, she opened her eyes with a soft groan and looked over at her wife, darkened by the lighting of the room. Emma was lying still. Perfectly still...almost too still. Alyssa's half-awake brain clearly didn't do critical thinking or decision making well. It was merely a split second before she turned on the lamp, and then she was holding back a screech at the flood of light from it.

Emma barely reacted to the light, but with it on now Alyssa could clearly see the tears on her face.

"Emma!..."

Finally, Emma looked over at Alyssa, a mere twitch of the eye, noting how the lamplight surrounded her face. Her eyes widen, and a second passes before she slaps herself across the face. Then she continues to look at Alyssa, a bewildered look on her face. Alyssa can't tell what Emma's thinking, but she doesn't want her to hurt herself anymore. That would become a cherry on top of the cake that was the awfulness of this evening, so Alyssa practically lunges forward to pin down Emma's wrists.

"Babe!"

"I'm sorry, I know you're mad at me," Emma says, but her voice and expression are emotionless.

Alyssa is more disturbed than angry. "No," is all she can think to say. "No, Emma!"

The silence is long, but eventually, Emma whispered, "Please don't touch me."

Alyssa doesn't necessarily want to oblige, but she does, and automatically, Emma starts scratching her wrist, a long, almost satisfied groan coming with it. The silence is agonizing for Alyssa. She watches Emma's fingers go back and forth over her shaking hand until she notices bright red. But Emma doesn't notice. Either that, or she doesn't care. Alyssa watches the blood drizzle down the back of Emma's hand, doing everything in her power so she doesn't reach out and try to hold her back. She doesn't know what she'd say even if Emma seemed up to talk.

She wasn't keeping track of the time. If she looked at her alarm clock, she'd be overly aware of the way that it ticked. Her only clock, if it could count, was the quiet shifts of Emma's hands against her own skin. No exact measure, but constant. At some point, even that began to slow. And then it ceased completely.

Emma stared at her arm. The feeling that eventually brought her back into the real world, her blood rushing down it. She could feel it practically pulsate, oddly warm. She looked to her right. The lamp was on, but Alyssa was asleep. She was sitting up slightly against her pillow, posture slumped by unconsciousness. An image flashes in Emma's mind, but she forced herself to shake it off. Carefully, she laid her head back down on her pillow, knowing she was in for a long night as she reached over her wife's sleeping figure to turn off the lamp. Once again illuminated by only darkness.

Alyssa was woken up by the sudden cry for help from their eldest child. Emma had seen him run down the hall and heard the commotion that came just beforehand, but she pretended to be asleep so her son wouldn't put a finger on the fact that she was still thinking way too much about yesterday.

“I think Tori has more than just a fever!”’

Alyssa opened her eyes a crack and watched Emma do the same a few seconds later.

“I got it, babe,” she whispered. “I know you had a rough night last night.”

Without thinking, Emma mumbled, “But you just woke up,” and automatically, she knew she'd been caught as Alyssa chuckled.

“Go back to sleep.”

Emma knew she couldn't do that. She got out of bed and instead chose to get dressed, hoping to leave last night, or even better, the whole of yesterday, behind. _But life doesn't work like that,_ she told herself with a shudder. _You know that better than most people._ And like a sad reprise of a happy show tune, there it was. A reminder of yesterday. Just what she didn't want, yet should've expected.

Hovering by her daughter’s bedroom door, the room reeked of vomit even from the outside. Emma peered in from the small gap between the door and its frame with a sigh. Victoria was lying under the covers, probably complaining about her stomachache, if Emma knew her well enough after 4 years. And Alyssa hovered over her, wiping her forehead with a damp washcloth. Emma sighed, realizing it would be some time before Alyssa had a spare moment. How could she be so selfless? And how did Emma feel like an asshole? With a roll of her shoulder, she wandered down the hall and into the kitchen, by instinct operating the coffee machine. There was a part of her that wanted to cut back on that, but today was clearly not a day she could deal with the withdrawal. She didn't even notice Alyssa walk into the kitchen to make breakfast, at least for her and Ed. To be fair, though, Alyssa seemed content without conversation, seeing how Emma mulled over the newspaper. (They were still a tad old fashioned, being older now.) Although it seemed strange Emma didn't even acknowledge her, Alyssa didn't push the subject, at least not until Ed stomped into the kitchen, and, in the typical 6-year old fashion, created a ruckus. Emma didn't even look up. Still, Alyssa knew the silence wouldn't--no, it couldn't last.

"Mommy? Mommy!"

Emma's mind was static. Perhaps the lack of sleep mixed with lingering emotions that never went away. But everything was blocked by thoughts of nothing. It felt good. Or maybe it didn't. She didn't know...it was...blank. And that was peaceful. Quiet for the first time in half a day. Was it a good quiet or not? That could only be answered when she came back to land. When she was no longer simply floating just above everything in the world. It was there, but simply blocked. Simply simple. Up here, nothing was complicated. No emotions to get in the way. Then she heard Alyssa's laughter in her head, and it echoed in the emptiness, growing until it dissolved into the silence. Simply a part of the static.

"Emma..." Alyssa's voice was articulate, yet somehow not, echoing in a high pitch, floating just beside her. And instead of dissolving, it sunk into her chest, making her lighter with its tenderness. Nothing in here had edges.

"No, it's okay...Emma...? It's just us..."

That was all Emma needed.

"Em..." Alyssa's laugh reverberated again, and suddenly Emma was one with the water. She blinked, and it was gone.

Emma tried not to have a reaction to the dining room that had suddenly engulfed her. At least not that anyone could see. She blinked, pursing her lips.

“Oh,” Alyssa chuckled, but it no longer sounded like it was in a dreamscape. “You _are_ awake.”

Emma jumped, whipping around to face Alyssa, who was standing just behind her chair. She opened her mouth to say something, but her mind was still clearing of its fog, so she couldn't think of what to say. Instead, she opted to rub the back of her neck in a rather sheepish manner. This triggered something in her head, and before she could really think about it, she had said “Uh...hi?”

Alyssa laughed again, and after a moment's lag, Emma responded with, “What's so funny?”

“What’cha reading?” Alyssa replied, sounding a tad like Isabella from Phineas and Ferb.

Emma turned to the newspaper on the table, blinking again at an article she swore she'd never seen. Her laugh sounded fake, and when she uttered: “What the fuck?” It was slightly monotone.

Alyssa’s expression fell as she realized Emma had actually zoned out completely. Perhaps it was more than that. At this rate, Alyssa wouldn't be at all surprised, as she saw Emma's face morph into the contorts of remembering the real world.

“Hey, it's okay. You're gonna be okay, love.”

Emma stands up suddenly. Her eyes are full of what could only be described as sorrowful fear. Finally, Alyssa processed just how much looking at her past had screwed with her head.

“I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…” Emma looked as if she wanted to say more than that, but she didn't know what else to say. 

Alyssa went onto her tiptoes and kissed the side of Emma's neck, watching her shiver. “Nonsense. You're having a rough day, and I'm here, so I get to make it better.”

“But, what about--” Emma started, but Alyssa shushed her.

“Don't worry about it. You've clearly got enough on your mind.”

So Emma finally admitted defeat. She caved in to Alyssa's touch, pulling herself into her chest. Alyssa grabs Emma's waist gently, and it brought her back to the old times when Emma was fragile. Emma placed her head on Alyssa's shoulder, trying valiantly to close the gap that always existed between them no matter what. Eight whole inches. Still, Emma was in fact, closer to Alyssa now, so she whispered quietly. "I love you."

And it was quiet again, only in Alyssa's warmth.

That was how Emma ended up back in her bedroom. She wasn't sure exactly what to use the sudden spare time for, and the one thing she'd thought of was immediately ruled out by Alyssa.

"If you so much as type the first three letters of the name of that website that you store your students' grades on, I’m turning off the damn internet, ‘Mrs. Greene’," she had told her. 

For some reason, Emma had thought back to being 16, how much she would've hated that connotation yet loved the things that implied. That she and Alyssa escaped and not only that, but they did it together. Thankfully, the title of Mrs. Greene had improved its connotation with Emma, especially after Betsy's passing.

That was when Emma spotted the camera, sitting on the bookshelf as though it had been there forever, just waiting for her. She listened as she approached it, the sounds of her bare feet muted by the carpet beneath. She curled her fingers around, and a flash of a memory came into her head; just a still. Alyssa, standing in their once barren apartment from college. The camera is angled down to Emma, sitting in the middle of the beige nothing and looking at the camera, leaning against the wall. With only that flicker, she found the power button and held it down.

It went all the way back to August of 2018, every month after that labeled with something underneath. This went all the way up to about the time Emma finished college, and because New York required teachers to get a master's degree, this meant that she had been 26, or around when Alyssa got pregnant with their first child. She had lost some energy that went into filming, and Emma wasn't about ready to pick it up, being busy with teaching and all. She moved the selection box over the very first video she could find still find. To none of her surprise, she saw the image she had just recalled so vividly.

 _Emma was searching around the empty room with nothing but cardboard boxes that somehow blended into the rest of the room. The camera zooms in as Emma ignores the high-pitched beep that states the camera's recording status. Alyssa is heard suppressing a giggle as Emma groans, turning to the camera but brushing right past it as she sits on the floor. It turns toward her_.

_"What's going on, babe?"_

_ “I—“ Emma finally turned to the camera, slinking back a little bit upon seeing it and automatically trying to adjust her voice further up. “What is that?” _

Emma was shocked by how different she sounded. She could hear the insecurity in her past voice. And with good reason.

_ “A housewarming gift,” said Alyssa, shrugging from behind the camera. “For myself.” _

_ “Uhm…” Emma trailed off but finally started again. “So I’m trying to open these boxes, but I can’t find the box cutter… I think it’s in one of them.” _

_ Alyssa turned the camera to display the scattered boxes around the empty floor. “Help,” Emma’s single word was uttered as Alyssa zoomed in on a specific box. A beat and she starts laughing. The camera rotates down to face the floor. Cut to black. _

Emma blinked, staring at the empty screen, speechless. After a few seconds, the library reappeared, and she found herself able to remember most of the thumbnails that the camera had selected automatically. Except for one. So, of course, curiosity got the better of her. It was only the second video, so it would make sense if she simply didn’t remember. She pressed select, however, and was only half startled by Alyssa’s face too close to the camera.

_ “Okay, okay. You wanna know why I really got this camera?” _

_ She holds up a small vial, causing her face to blur. _

_ "I picked this up for Emma at the pharmacy while she was student teaching today. And we--" she steps back to reveal Barry, Betsy, and Eden. "Are going to surprise her." _

_ A few minutes later, and the doorknob jiggles a little. Alyssa steps back to cover the camera. _

_ “Babe?” Emma called out, slightly taken aback by her family already in the dining room. _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “What’s going on?” _

_ Alyssa laughs, turning to face the camera as she reaches behind it to grab the vial from earlier. “Oh, nothing much.” _

_ She steps away from the camera, angled to show Emma's reaction as she reads the label on the vial. _

_ A pause as Emma tries to process what's going on. _

_ “Oh...my God…!” Emma's whisper is caught clearly by the camera. _

Emma smiled at her past self. She didn't recall this moment being recorded, and she wasn't sure why she would. But she knew it was one of those things she wouldn't forget whether or not it was documented.

_ Emma started laughing. She couldn't think of anything but this thing in front of her that she had wanted for 6 years, the presentation of that had never crossed her mind. Alyssa looked at her for a moment, confused until Emma crushed her in a hug. Ironically, Alyssa was the one who started crying as the others joined the celebration. The video went on for what seemed ages as everyone who knew the camera was on slowly forgot. _

Alyssa only spoke when she stopped hearing the sounds of the playback. "Weird times, huh?"

Emma looked up, startled. She didn't say anything. Alyssa walked over to her and sat down next to her, talking as she did. "It's kinda crazy, isn't it?"

Emma was still silent, only moving the camera so Alyssa could see. From a sitting position, Alyssa was at a height where she could lean her head onto Emma's arm.

_ "Tell the camera what's happening, Em," Alyssa says as Emma reads over the instructions on the box next to her. She looks up, a stupidly large grin on her face. _

_ "I'm about to have my first E shot," Emma says pridefully, looking at the syringe in her hand as though it held the secrets of the universe. _

_ "Alright! September 3rd, 2019. Let's not forgot the date," Alyssa said. A cringe breaks her train of thought. "But I'm turning around for right now." _

_ Emma laughs, and her smile stays on her face even as the camera captures how she injects herself. _

Watching this, present-day Alyssa still turns around, knowing she'll be disturbed by what she sees. Emma makes a point to laugh even now.

"You can look now," she says, at practically the same time as her recorded self. Alyssa shudders, turning back to the camera without a word.

_ Alyssa lets out a noise of disgust. "You're really fucking brave for that," she tells Emma. _

_ "No," Emma replies. "You don't really get it." _

_ "No, I don't." _

_ "I've been wanting that since...probably forever if you trace back the little things." Emma blinks, and suddenly reality has hit her. "Holy shit!" _

They kept watching through the videos. Neither of them forgot about the extra pressure Emma's hormones had put them through, and sometimes it was evident that Alyssa was kind of annoyed at Emma, or that Emma didn't want to be filmed. It was an emotional roller coaster for anyone, but neither woman was ever angry at the other and blaming hormones as the reason. Eden had become an intergral part of both of their lives at this point, ensuring that the things Emma was dealing with were to be expected, and she was slowly incorporated into more and more of these home videos. But still, it was of no help that sometime around then, Betsy had passed away. Yet, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Emma's top surgery.

There were no videos taken on that day, which Emma was grateful for, but she remembered the events clear as a bell, forgiving the drugs she’d been put under.

_ Alyssa couldn't get off work for that day, or so she claimed. Barry had been working on a tour at the time and ended up halfway across the country. Dee Dee was in Indiana with Mr. Hawkins. And that was how Emma ended up going to the hospital for her surgery with none other than Angie Dickinson. _

_ She was surprisingly good at soothing Emma's anxiety. When Emma started getting nervous, Angie was right beside her, comforting her gently. Those were the words Emma kept in mind as she was wheeled by three different doctors into the operating room. When she woke up again, the first thing she heard was Angie’s voice. _

_ “Hey, baby girl.” Angie’s voice was a whisper. _

_ Emma tried to open her eyes a little and was immediately flooded by light. She groaned softly and suddenly her chest was filled with a sharp pain that briefly halts her breath. _

_ “Who thought that was a good idea?” It takes effort, but Emma got the words out. _

_ Angie chuckled, moving a strand of Emma's hair behind her ear. “I don't know, sweetheart.” _

_ When Angie moved her hand away, Emma whined a little, trying to move toward Angie's voice. _

_ “Oh, you like that, huh?” _

_ “Mmm…” _

_ So Angie kept playing with Emma's hair, watching over her like a mother bird guards her chick against harm as Emma slowly comes back to Earth. When her tired eyes could finally open in the light, she turned her head slowly so she was looking at Angie. She was still slightly high on anesthesia and pain medication, so the memory was a little foggy as she said three words that would change their relationship forever. _

_ “Thank you, mama…” _

_ Angie paid no mind to the endearment, silently continuing the motions that prompted it with a gentle smile warming her face. _

_ “Always.” _

_ “...Angie?” _

_ “Hm?” _

_ “It hurts.” _

_ “I know, Pumpkin. But it's gonna be so worth it in the end.” _

_ They walk in the door of Emma and Alyssa’s apartment. Thankfully, Emma regained her brain-to-mouth filter somewhat since being cleared, but she still couldn't control her mind when Alyssa was meeting her at the door, a box of chocolates in hand. _

_ “What the hell?” There was no anger in Emma's voice, just confusion. _

_ “I figured I'd work on a surprise for you while you were gone,” Alyssa says, and suddenly she's leading Emma over to the couch. _

_ “No time like the present,” Alyssa muttered to herself. _

_ Emma caught Alyssa's utterance and was about to ask what it meant before Alyssa picked up Emma's guitar, which Emma hadn't noticed was in the living room as well, and launched into a rendition of ‘She’s Always a Woman’ by Billy Joel. Then, suddenly, she dropped down on one knee, revealing an engagement ring to Emma. _

After that, it got easier. Being stuck in the bliss that is the honeymoon phase was helpful, but the surgery had transformed Emma into a more confident woman, and everyone knew it. The biggest payoff, in the end, was being able to call herself Alyssa's wife.

“Emma?” Alyssa said quietly, and the aforementioned girl shook the memory from her head.

“Yeah?” As she was confronted by the present tense again, she held back a yawn.

“You zoned out on me again,” Alyssa was still quiet, feeling apprehensive in case one wrong move would break Emma again.

“I think I'm just tired.”

“I told you to go back to bed,” Alyssa replied, looking at Emma carefully. She noticed now the dark circles under her eyes. She hadn't had a moment of not worrying about  _ something  _ in weeks.

“Can I still…?” Emma didn't finish the question, the yawn she attempted to hold in finally slipped, and Alyssa giggled.

“Of course.”

As Emma got back under the covers, she realized something. Her past wasn't something to be repressed. It was something to be honored. It made her into the person she was now. A sometimes overly dedicated hard-worker with ambition and a good work ethic who only wanted to give back to the world. If she were cis, what reason would she have to want to work hard and meet the goals she made for herself? If she were cis, she wouldn't have Alyssa in her life right now. The best part of her life, it would be gone. That thought lifted the weight off her shoulders. Closing her eyes and drifting into her subconscious, the last thing she swore she smelled were poppies, and the last thing she felt was love. A kind of she never would've known if she were still Connor. And she was proud of herself for that. She was proud knowing she deserved the incredible people that made her family. She was proud she could say she had a family. She was proud that she could be herself. And she hoped the boy she was would be proud of that someday too. Emma Ruth Greene was so proud of Connor Nolan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming on the journey that was this fic with me through your continued love. It's been just over 3 months, probably the longest I've spent on a single piece. I am so immensely proud of it, and I'm thrilled you all loved this as much as you did. I've grown so much as a person while writing this. I've been so unbelievably happy lately. I've figured out who I really am, and who knew this would be a catalyst? All because a few people were open to this story. I am so unbelievably "gressed and blateful" for this experience. For you all. I would have never taken this leap without friends by my side.  
> ~Love from Ozzie.


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